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R .  G-  Re : 

II  — 

(    UBRARY 


V 


UNtV  i.     TY  OF 
C/  .  -       N  A 
SAN  DIEGO 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIF.GO 

by 

FRIENDS  OF  THE  UBRARY 


MR.    JOHM-CU-RQSE 


JjOH|^ 


PR. 


A  CHANGE  OF  AIR 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arcliive 

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ANTHONY    HOPE    HAWKINS. 


A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 


BY 


ANTHONY   HOPE     H"^"^^"^^^ 

AUTHOR   OF    "the   PRISONER   OF   ZENDA,''    ETC. 


NEW     YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 
1894 


Copyright,  1894, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO. 


THH    MERSHON   COMFANV    HJESS, 
RAHWAV,  N.  J. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

"  Anthony  Hope,      .... 

I.  A  Mission  to  the  Heathen, 

n.  The  New  Man  at  Littlehill, 

III.  Denborough  Determines  to  Call, 

IV.  A  Quiet  Sunday  Afternoon, 
V.  The  Necessary  Scapegoat, 

VI.  Littlehill  Goes  into  Society,     . 

VII.  "  To  A  Pretty  Saint," 

VIII.  An  Indiscreet  Disciple, 

IX.  Dale's  Own  Opinion,    . 

X.  A  Prejudiced  Verdict,    . 

XI.  A  Fable  About  Birds, 

XII.  A  Dedication— AND  a  Desecration, 

XIII.  The  Responsibilities  of  Genius, 

XIV.  Mr.  Delane  Likes  the  Idea, 
XV.  How  IT  Seemed  to  the  Doctor, 

XVI.  "  No  More  Kings,"   .... 

XVII.  Dale  Tries  His  Hand  at  an  Ode, 

XVIII.  Delilah  Johnstone, 

XIX.  A  Well-paid  Poem,      . 

XX.  An  Evening's  End,    .... 

XXI.  <' The  Other  Girl  Did,"     . 

XXII.  The  Fitness  of  Things,  . 


FAGB 

vii 

I 

7 
i6 
26 
36 
47 
57 
67 

77 


106 
114 
123 
132 
141 

153 
i6i 
169 
177 
183 
191 


VI 


COJVTEN'TS. 


CHAPTER  PAGR 

XXIII.  A  Morbid  Scruple,     ....    200 

XXIV.  The  Heroine  of  the  Incident,  .  208 
XXV.  The  Scene  of  the  Outrage,  .    219 

XXVI.  Against  Her  Better  Judgment,  229 

XXVII.  A  Villain  Unmasked,       .        .  .237 

XXVIII.  A  Vision, 345 


"ANTHONY   HOPE." 

In  his  speech  at  the  annual  banquet  of  the 
Royal  Academy  in  1894,  among  many  other  good 
things,  Mr.  Andrew  Lang  said  : 

"  The  thrifty  plan  of  giving  us  sermons,  poli- 
tics, fiction,  all  in  one  stodgy  sandwich,  produces 
no  permanent  literature,  produces  but  tempo- 
rary '  tracts  for  the  times.'  Fortunately  we 
have  among  us  many  novelists — young  ones, 
luckily — who  are  true  to  the  primitive  and 
eternal,  the  Fijian  canons  of  fiction.  We  have 
Oriental  romance  from  the  author  of  '  Plain 
Tales  from  the  Hills.'  We  have  the  humor  and 
tenderness — certainly  not  Fijian,  I  admit — 
which  produces  that  masterpiece  '  A  Window 
in  Thrums  ';  we  have  the  adventurous  fancy  that 
gives  us  '  A  Gentleman  of  France,'  '  The 
Master  of  Ballantrae,'  '  Micah  Clarke,'  '  The 
Raiders,' '  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda.'  " 

The  last  of  these  books  was  by  Anthony 
Hope  Hawkins,  whom  Mr.  Lang  thus  classed 
among  potential  immortals.  This  romance 
has  made  him  within  the  last  three  months 
fairly  famous.  Walter  Besant,  too,  has  stamped 
it  with  his  high  approval,  and  the  English 
and  American  press  have  been  unusually 
unanimous  in  their  praise. 


Vill  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Its  hero  is  a  rare  and  striking  figure,  and 
thoroughly  represents  the  ideal  soldier  of  our 
Anglo-Saxon  race.  He  faces  great  dangers 
and  does  brave  deeds,  quietly  and  quickly.  He 
suffers  and  loves  deeply,  but  says  little.  In  his 
portrayal,  the  possibilities  of  "  repressed  emo- 
tion "  have  been  startlingly  indicated.  He  ap- 
peals to  Americans  and  English  far  more  than 
the  swaggering  and  loquacious,  though  more 
historic  heroes  of  Dumas  and  his  .school  ever 
can. 

Much  curiosity  has  been  excited  regarding 
"  Anthony  Hope." 

The  author's  methods  of  composition  and  what 
may  have  suggested  the  very  original  plot  are  as 
yet  unknown.  Besides  what  we  may  get  from 
his  portrait,  we  are  told  that  he  is  "  a  tall,  thin, 
dark  man,  with  a  face  that  would  be  ascetic  if 
it  were  not  bubbling  with  humor."  He  is  a 
lawyer,  as  other  good  romancers  have  been  be- 
fore him,  and  has  chambers  in  the  Middle 
Temple,  a  place  made  famous  in  fiction  by 
Thackeray  and  on  the  stage  by  Pinero.  His 
profession  and  politics  are  his  chief  concerns, 
and  literature  a  diversion  in  his  leisure  hours. 
He  is  an  extremely  modest  man,  and  in  response 
to  a  request  from  his  American  publishers 
for  autobiographical  matter,  gave  the  barest 
facts  of  his  life.  He  expressed  absolutely  no 
opinion  on  literary  canons  or  on  his  own  work. 
There  was,  however,  a  rare  sincerity  and  cordial- 
ity in  his  letters. 

Anthony  Hope  Hawkins  was  born  in  1863, 
his  father  being  the  Rev,  E.  C.  Hawkins  of  St, 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  ^^ 

Brides,  Fleet  Street,  London.  He  was  educated 
at  Marlborough,  and  at  Baliol  College,  Oxford, 
of  which  he  was  a  scholar.  At  Oxford,  he  was 
a  hard  worker  and  obtained  first  classes  in 
Classical  Moderations  and  in  the  School  of 
LitterjB  Humaniores,  commonly  known  as 
"  Greats."  At  this  university,  where  he  attained 
the  degree  of  M.  A.  some  eight  years  ago,  he 
began  to  show  an  aptitude  for  public  life,  was  a 
striking  figure  among  his  contemporaries,  and 
became  president  of  the  Union.  In  1892  he 
stood  as  a  Liberal  candidate  for  a  seat  in  Parlia- 
ment from  the  southern  division  of  Bucking- 
hamshire, but  was  defeated  by  Viscount  Curzon. 

His  first  book,  "  A  Man  of  Mark,"  was  pub- 
lished in  1890,  and  was  followed  next  year  by 
"  Father  Stafford,"  an  interesting  study  of  an 
Anglican  priest's  struggles  between  lov^e  and 
sense  of  obligation  to  his  vow  of  celibacy. 
The  pictures  of  his  cheerless  ascetic  life  are 
marked  by  the  sincerity  conspicuous  in  Mr. 
Hawkins  later  books.  Some  very  thoughtful 
conversations  on  art  and  on  religion  are  intro- 
duced. 

In  1892  appeared  "  Mr.  Witt's  Widow,  a 
Frivolous  Tale  "  of  a  lady  who  had  "  harmonious 
contrasts,"  such  as  dark  eyes  and  golden  hair. 
It  foreshadows  the  power  in  plot-making  that 
characterizes   our  author's   later  works. 

In  the  spring  of  1893  appeared  "  Sport  Royal,'' 
a  collection  of  Mr.  Hawkins'  short  stories, 
mostly  from  the  St.  James'  Gazette. 

In  "  Half  a  Hero,"  published  last  year,  there 
are  several  foreshadowings  of  "  The  Prisoner  of 


X  BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH. 

Zenda."  In  both  stories  the  scene  is  imaginary, 
but  given  realism  by  characteristics  respectively 
of  New  Zealand  and  of  Germany;  in  both 
intrigues  and  heroism  are  conspicuous,  though 
in  the  latter  the  author  did  not  adopt  the  old 
device  of  giving  his  hero  some  bad  qualities  to 
make  him  human.  "  Half  a  Hero  "  contains 
much  firm,  crisp  character-drawing,  and  a  strong 
love  interest,  but  has  the  slight  taint  of  the 
"  purpose  novel,"  already  noted  in  Father  Staf- 
ford ;  in  this  case,  the  discussion  being  politics, 
especially  the  "labor  "  element. 

Anthony  Hope  inherited  refinement  through 
a  father  in  an  exalted  calling ;  he  used  his 
college  advantages  to  the  utmost,  and  now  his 
interests  are  in  living  public  affairs,  and  in  his 
chosen  calling  as  a  lawyer,  he  has  good  0])por- 
tunities  to  study  life,  and  seems  already  to  have 
well  mastered  the  best  elements  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  character.  From  his  work,  he  appears 
to  have  read  widely  and  with  a  sympathetic  eye 
for  the  merits  of  markedly  diverse  writers, 
which  he  seems  to  make  his  own.  His  style 
has  the  terseness  and  suggestiveness  character- 
istic of  Kipling,  but  without  his  harshness,  and 
at  times  he  shows  a  sense  of  beauty  almost 
worthy  of  our  own  Hawthorne,  and  withal  the 
military  dash  and  snap  of  Lever.  It  would  be 
strange  if  the  foundation  for  the  remarkably 
life-like  colonists  of "  Half  a  Hero,"  and  the  Ger- 
man officers  of  "The  Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  had 
had  not  been  laid  by  travel  and  the  observation 
of  their  more  or  less  remote  prototypes. 

"  A  Change  of  Air."  while  containing  much 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH.  Xi 

of  its  humor  and  snap,  furnishes  a  marked  con- 
trast to  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  and  is  in  a 
more  serious  vein,  having  a  strong  and  tragic 
undercurrent,  and  not  without  an  element  of 
peril.  Confining  its  occurrences  pretty  severely 
to  the  possible  and  generally  probable,  it  never- 
theless is  highly  original.  Dale  Bannister,  the 
wild  young  poet,  who  commences  by  thoroughly 
scandalizing  Market  Denborough,  is  a  most 
picturesque  and  uncommon  character.  The 
effect  of  his  early  principles  on  his  later  life  is 
deftly  indicated.  The  story  moves  on  steadily, 
and  while  it  teaches  a  lesson  of  moderation  and 
charity,  it  does  so  entirely  by  the  acts  and 
thoughts  of  the  characters  without  any  sermon- 
izing on  the  part  of  the  author.  Some  good 
authorities  that  have  seen  this  book  place  it 
even  above  "  The  Prisoner  of  Zenda,"  which  we 
probably  shall  see  on  the  stage  next  year,  as 
the  author  has  a  friend  busily  engaged  on  its 
dramatization. 

R.  H. 
July,  1894. 


A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

B  /iRleston  to  tbc  Ibcatben. 

HEN  the  Great  King,  that  mirror  of  a 
majesty  whereof  modern  times  have 
robbed  the  world,  recoiled  aghast 
from  the  threatened  indignity  of  hav- 
ing to  wait,  he  laid  his  linger  with  a  true  touch 
on  a  characteristic  incident  of  the  lot  of  common 
men,  from  which  it  was  seemly  that  the  state  of 
God's  Vicegerents  should  be  free.  It  was  a 
small  matter,  no  doubt,  a  thing  of  manners 
merely,  and  etiquette  ;  yet  manners  and  etiquette 
are  first  the  shadowed  expression  of  facts  and 
then  the  survival  of  them  ;  the  reverence  once 
paid  to  power,  and  now  accorded,  in  a  strange 
mixture  of  chivalry  and  calculation,  to  mere 
place  whence  power  has  fled.  The  day  of 
vicegerents  is  gone,  and  the  day  of  officers  has 
come ;  and  it  is  not  unknown  that  officers 
should  have  to  wait,  or  even — such  is  the  inso- 
lence, no  longer  of  office,  but  of  those  who  give 
it — should  altogether  go  without.  Yet,  although 
everybody  has  now  to  wait,  everybody  has  not 
to  wait  the  same  length  of  time.     For  example, 


2  A    CHANGS  OF  AIR. 

a  genius  needs  not  wait  so  long  for  what  he 
wants  as  a  fool — unless,  as  chances  now  and 
then,  he  be  both  a  genius  and  a  fool,  when 
probably  his  waiting  will  be  utterly  without 
end. 

In  a  small  flat  in  Chelsea,  very  high  toward 
heaven,  there  sat  one  evening  in  the  summer, 
two  young  men  and  a  genius  ;  and  the  younger 
of  the  young  men,  whose  name  was  Arthur 
Angell,  said  discontentedly  to  the  genius: 

"The  brute  only  sent  me  ten  and  sixpence. 
What  did  you  get  for  yours .''  " 

Tiie  genius  blushed  and  murmured  apolo- 
getically : 

"  That  agent  chap  I've  sold  myself  to  got 
twenty  pounds  for  it." 

The  second  young  man,  who  was  not  so 
young,  being,  in  fact,  well  turned  of  thirty,  and 
growing  bald,  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth, 
and,  pointing  the  stem  first  at  the  genius,  then 
at  Arthur  Angell,  and  lastly,  like  a  knife,  at  his 
own  breast,  said : 

"  Pounds — shillings — and  pence.  He  sent 
me  nothing  at  all." 

A  paused  followed,  and  the  genius  began  : 

"  Look   here,  you   fellows "     But   Philip 

Hume  went  on  :  "  Ten  and  sixpence  is  a  good 
sum  of  money,  a  comfortable  sum  of  money, 
and,  my  dear  Arthur,  I  should  say  the  full  value 
of  your  poem.  As  to  Dale's  poem,  who  knows 
the  value  of  Dale's  poem  }     By  what  rod  shall 

you  measure "     He  broke  off  with  a  laugh 

at  Dale's  gesture  of  protest. 

"  I'm  making  the  deuce  of  a  lot  of  money," 


A  MISSION  TO  THE  HE  A  THEN.  3 

said  Dale  in  an  awestruck  tone.  "  It's  rolling 
in.     I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  it." 

"  Littlehill  will  swallow  it,"  said  Philip. 

"  You  don't  mean  that  he  sticks  to  that 
idea  }  "  exclaimed  Arthur.  "  You  don't,  do 
you,  Dale .-' " 

"  I  do,"  answered  Dale.  "  I'm  not  going 
permanently.  I'm  not  going  to  forsake  our  old 
ways  or  our  old  life.  I'm  not  going  to  turn 
into  a  rich  man." 

"  I  hope  not,  by  Jove  ! "  cried  Arthur. 

"But  I  want  to  see  the  country — I've  not 
seen  it  for  years.  And  I  want  to  see  country 
people,  and — and " 

"  It  '11  end  in  our  losing  you,"  prophesied 
Arthur  gloomily. 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  Dale,  flushing  a  little. 
"  It  '11  end  in  nothing  of  the  sort.  I've  only 
taken   the  house  for  a  year." 

"  A  gentleman's  residence,"  said  Philip ; 
"  five  sitting  rooms,  twelve  bedrooms,  offices, 
stabling,  and  three  acres  of  grounds." 

Arthur  groaned. 

"  It  sounds  a  villa  all  over,"  he  said. 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Dale  sharply ;  "  it's  a 
country  house." 

"Is  there  any  difference.?"  asked  Arthur 
scornfully. 

"  All  the  difference,"  said  Philip  ;  "  as  you 
would  know  if  you  moved  in  anything  approach- 
ing respectable  circles." 

"I'm  glad  I  don't,"  said  Arthur.  "What 
will  respectable  circles  say  to  '  The  Clarion,' 
eh.  Dale  ?  " 


4  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"Who  cares  what  they  say?  "  laughed  Dale. 
"  They  seem  to  buy  it." 

Arthur  looked  at  him  with  revengeful  eye, 
and  suddenly  inquired. 

"  What  about  Nellie  ?  " 

"  That's  just  the  delightful  part  of  it," 
answered  Dale  eagerly.  "  Nellie's  been  seedy 
ever  so  long,  you  know.  She  was  ordered  per- 
fect rest  and  country  air.  But  it  didn't  run 
to  it." 

"  It  never  ran  to  anything  here,"  said  Philip 
in  a  tone  of  dispassionate  acquiescence  in  facts, 
"  till  you  became  famous." 

"  Now  I  can  help  !  "  pursued  Dale.  "  She 
and  Mrs.  Hodge  are  coming  to  pay  me  a  long 
visit.  Of  course,  Phil's  going  to  be  there  per- 
manently.    You'll  come  too,  Arthur?  " 

At  first  Arthur  Angell  said  he  would  not  go 
near  a  villa;  he  could  not  breath  in  a  villa  ;  or 
sleep  quiet  o'  nights  in  a  villa  ;  but  presently  he 
relented. 

"I  can't  stand  it  for  long,  though,"  he  said. 
"  Still,  I'm  glad  you're  going  to  have  Nellie 
there.  She'd  have  missed  you  awfully.  When 
do  you  go  ?  " 

"  Actually,  to-morrow.  I'm  not  used  to  it 
yet." 

Arthur  shook  his  head  again,  as  he  put  on 
his  hat. 

"  Well,  good-night,"  said  he.  "  I  hope  it's 
all  right." 

Dale  waited  till  the  door  was  closed  behind 
his  guest,  and  then  laughed  good-humoredly. 

"  I  like  old  Arthur,"  he  said.     "  He's  so  keen 


A  MISSION  TO  THE  HEA  THEN.  5 

and  in  earnest  about  it.  But  it's  all  bosh. 
What  difference  can  it  make  whether  I  hve  in 
London  or  the  country?  And  it's  only  for  a 
little  while." 

"  He  begins  to  include  you  in  the  well-to-do 
classes,  and  suspects  you  accordingly,"  replied 
rhilip. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  pretty 
girl  came  in. 

"  Oh,  I  ran  up,"  she  said,  "  to  ask  whether 
this  hat  would  do  for  Denshire.  I  don't  want 
to  disgrace  you,  Dale  ;  "  and  she  held  up  a  hat 
she  carried  in  her  hand. 

"  It  would  do  for  Paradise,"  said  Dale.  "  Be- 
sides, there  isn't  going  to  be  any  difference  at 
all  in  Denshire.  We  are  going  to  be  and  do 
and  dress  just  as  we  are  and  do  and  dress  here. 
Aren't  we,  Phil  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  scheme,"  said  Philip. 

"We  shall  care  for  no  one's  opinion,"  pur- 
sued Dale,  warming  to  his  subject.  "  We  shall 
be  absolutely  independent.  We  shall  show 
them  that  their  way  of  living  is  not  the  only  way 
of  living.     We— —  " 

"  In  fact,  Nellie,"  interrupted  Philip,  "  w'e 
shall  open  their  eyes  considerably.  So  we  flatter 
ourselves." 

"  It's  not  that  at  all,"  protested  Dale. 

"  You  can't  help  it.  Dale,"  said  Nellie,  smiling 
brightly  at  him.  "  Of  course  they  will  open 
their  eyes  at  the  great  Mr.  Bannister.  We  all 
open  our  eyes  at  him,  don't  we,  IMr.  Hume  ? 
Well,  then,  the  hat  will  do — as  a  week-day  hat, 
I  mean  ?  " 


0  A   CHANGE  OF  A/R. 

"  A  week-day  hat  ?  "  repeated  Philip.  "  Dear 
old  phrase !  It  recalls  one's  happy  church- 
going  youth.  Have  you  also  provided  a  Sunday 
hat  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Hume." 

"  And,  Dale,  have  you  a  Sunday  coat  ?" 

Dale  laughed. 

"  It's  a  pretty  excuse  for  pretty  things,  Phil," 
he  said.  "  Let  Nellie  have  her  Sunday  hat.  I 
doubt  if  they'll  let  me  into  the  church." 

Philip  stretched  out  his  hand  and  took  up  a 
glass  of  whisky  and  water  which  stood  near 
him. 

"  I  drink  to  the  success  of  the  expedition  !  " 
said  he. 

"  To  the  success  of  our  mission  !  "  cried  Dale 
gayly,  raising  his  glass.  "  We  will  spread  the 
Mght ! " 

"  Here's  to  Dale  Bannister,  apostle  zn  parti- 
bus!"  and  Philip  drank  the  toast. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Zbc  mew  ^an  at  OLlttlebm. 


\RKET  DENBOROUGH  is  not  a 
large  town.  Perhaps  it  is  none  the 
worse  for  that,  and,  if  it  be,  there  is 
compensation  to  be  found  in  its  pic- 
turesqueness,  its  antiquity,  and  its  dignity  ;  for 
there  has  been  a  town  where  it  stands  from 
time  immemorial ;  it  makes  a  great  figure  in 
county  histories  and  local  guidebooks ;  it  is  an 
ancient  corporation,  an  assize  town,  and  quar- 
ter-sessions borough.  It  does  not  grow,  for 
country  towns,  dependent  solely  on  the  support 
of  the  rural  districts  surrounding,  are  not  given 
to  growing  much  nowadays.  Moreover,  the 
Uelanes  do  not  readily  allow  new  houses  to  be 
built,  and  if  a  man  lives  in  Market  Denborough, 
he  must  be  a  roofless  vagrant  or  a  tenant  of  Mr. 
Delane.  It  is  not  the  place  to  make  a  fortune  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  unusual  recklessness  is 
necessary  to  the  losing  of  one  there.  If  the 
triumphs  of  life  are  on  a  small  scale,  the  struggle 
for  existence  is  not  very  fierce,  and  a  wise  man 
might  do  worse  than  barter  the  uncertain 
chances  and  precarious  joys  of  a  larger  stage, 
to  play  a  modest,  easy,  quiet  part  on  the  little 
boards  of  Market  Denborough. 


O  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  the 
lion  and  the  lamb  have  quite  sunk  their  differ- 
ences and  lain  down  together  at  Market  Den- 
borougii.  There,  as  elsewhere,  the  millennium 
tarries,  and  there  are  not  wanting  fierce  feuds, 
personal,  municipal,  nay,  even,  within  the  wide 
limits  of  Mr.  Delane's  tolerance,  political.  If  it 
were  not  so,  the  Mayor  would  not  have  been 
happy,  for  the  Mayor  loved  a  fight ;  and  Alder- 
man Johnstone,  who  was  a  Radical,  would  have 
felt  his  days  wasted ;  and  the  two  gentlemen 
would  not  have  been,  as  they  continually  were, 
at  loggerheads  concerning  paving  contracts  and 
kindred  subjects.  There  was  no  want  of  inter- 
ests in  life,  if  a  man  were  ready  to  take  his 
own  part  and  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  doings  of 
his  neighbor.  Besides,  the  really  great  events 
of  existence  happened  at  Market  Denborough 
much  as  they  do  in  London  ;  people  were  born, 
and  married,  and  died ;  and  while  that  rotation 
is  unchecked,  who  can  be  seriously  at  a  loss  for 
matter  of  thought  or  topic  of  conversation  .'* 

As  Mr.  James  Roberts,  member  of  the  Royal 
College  of  Surgeons,  a  thin  young  man,  with 
restless  eyes  and  tight-shut  lips,  walked  down 
High  Street  one  hot,  sunny  afternoon,  it  never 
entered  his  head  that  there  was  not  enough  to 
think  about  in  Market  Denborough.  Wife  and 
child,  rent,  rates  and  taxes,  patients  and  pre- 
scriptions, the  relation  between  those  old 
enemies,  incomings  and  outgoings,  here  was 
food  enough  for  any  man's  meditations. 
Enough  ?  Ay,  enough  and  to  spare  of  such  dis- 
tasteful,  insipid,  narrow,  soul-destroying  stuff. 


THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  LITTLEHILL.  9 

Mr.,  or,  to  give  liim  tlie  brevet  rank  all  the  town 
gave  him.  Dr.  Roberts,  hated  these  sordid,  im- 
perious interests  that  gathered  round  him  and 
hemmed  him  in,  shutting  out  all  else— all  dreams 
of  ambition,  all  dear,  long-harbored  schemes, 
all  burning  enthusiasms,  even  all  chance  of 
seeking  deeper  knowledge  and  more  command- 
ing skill.  Sadly  and  impatiently  the  doctor 
shook  his  head,  trying  to  put  his  visions  on  one 
side,  and  nail  his  mind  down  to  its  work.  His 
first  task  was  to  turn  three  hundred  pounds  a 
year  into  six  hundred  pounds.  It  was  hard  it 
should  be  so,  and  he  chafed  against  necessity, 
forgetting,  as  perhaps  he  pardonably  might,  that 
the  need  was  the  price  he  paid  for  wife  and 
child.  Yes,  it  was  hard ;  but  so  it  was.  If 
only  more  people  would  be — no,  but  if  only 
more  people  who  were  ill  would  call  in  Dr. 
Roberts  !  Then  he  could  keep  two  horses,  and 
not  have  to  "  pad  the  hoof,"  as  he  phrased  it  to 
himself,  about  sweltering  streets  or  dusty  lanes 
all  the  long  afternoon,  because  his  one  pony  was 
tired  out  with  carrying  him  in  the  morning  to 
Dirkham,  a  village  five  miles  off,  where  he  was 
medical  officer  at  a  salary  of  forty  pounds  by 
the  year.  That  was  forty,  and  Ethel  had  a  hun- 
dred, and  the  profits  from  his  paying  patients 
(even  if  you  allowed  for  the  medicine  consumed 
by  those  who  did  not  pay)  were  about  a  hundred 

and  fifty.     But  then  the  bills Oh,  well,  he 

must  go  on.  The  second  horse  must  wait,  and 
that  other  dream  of  his,  having  an  assistant, 
that  must  wait,  too.  If  he  had  an  assistant,  he 
would  have  some  leisure  for  research,  for  read- 


lO  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

ing.  for  studying  the  political  and  social  ques- 
tions wiiere  his  real  and  cngiossing  interest  lay. 
He  could  then  take  his  part  in  the  mighty  work 
of  rousing 

Here  his  meditations  were  interrupted.  He 
had  reached,  in  his  progress  down  the  street,  a 
large  platc-glass-windowed  shop,  the  shop  of  a 
chemist,  and  of  no  less  a  man  than  Mr.  James 
Hedger,  Mayor  of  Market  Denborough.  The 
member  of  the  lower  branch  of  their  common 
art  was  a  richer  man  than  he  who  belonged  to 
the  higher,  and  when  Mr.  Hedger  was  playfully 
charged  with  giving  the  young  Doctor  his 
medicines  cheap,  he  never  denied  the  accusa- 
tion. Anyhow,  the  two  were  good  friends,  and 
the  Mayor,  who  was  surveying  his  dominions 
from  his  doorstep,  broke  in  on  Dr.  Roberts' 
train  of  thought  with  a  cheerful  greeting. 

"  Have  you  heard  the  news  }  "  he  asked. 

"  No  ;  I've  no  time  for  the  news.  I  always 
look  to  you  for  it,  Mr.  Mayor." 

"  It  mostly  comes  round  to  me,  being  a  center, 
like,"  said  the  Mayor.     "  It's  natural." 

"  Well,  what  is  it  this  time  ?  "  asked  the 
Doctor,  calling  up  a  show  of  interest.  He  did 
not  care  much  for  Denborough  news. 

"Littlehill's  let,"  replied  tlie  Mayor. 

Littlehill,  the  subject  of  Philip  Hume's  half- 
ironical  description,  was  a  good  house,  standing 
on  rising  ground  about  half  a  mile  outside  the 
town.  It  belonged,  of  course,  to  Mr.  Delane, 
and  had  stood  empty  for  more  than  a  year.  A 
tenant  at  Littlehill  meant  an  increase  of  custom 
for  the  tradespeople,    and    perchance   for  the 


THE  NEW  MA  N  AT  LITTLEHILL.  1 1 

doctors.  Hence  the  importance  of  the  Mayor's 
piece  of  news. 

"Indeed.'"  said  Roberts.  "Who's  taken 
it  }  " 

"  Not  much  good — a  young  man,  a  bachelor," 
said  the  Mayor,  shaking  his  head.  Bachelors 
do  not  require,  or  anyhow  do  not  take,  many 
chemist's  drugs,  "  Still,  I  hear  he's  well  off, 
and  p'r'aps  he'll  have  people  to  stop  with 
him." 

"  What's  his  name  }  " 

"  Some  name  like  Bannister.  He's  from 
London." 

"  What's  he  coming  here  for  ?  "  asked  Rob- 
erts, who,  if  he  had  been  a  well-to-do  bachelor, 
would  not  have  settled  at  Market  Denborough. 

"Why  shouldn't  he?"  retorted  the  Mayor, 
who  had  never  lived,  or  thought  of  living,  any- 
where else. 

"  Well,  I  shouldn't  have  thought  he'd  have 
found  much  to  do.  He  wouldn't  come  in  the 
summer  for  the  hunting." 

"  Hunting?  Not  he  !  He's  a  literary  gentle- 
man— writes  poetry  and  what  not." 

"  Poetry  ?  Why,  it's  not  Dale  Bannister,  is 
it?" 

"  Ay,  that's  the  name." 

"  Dale  Bannister  coming  to  Littlehill  !  That 
is  an  honor  for  the  town  !  " 

"  An  honor  ?     W^hat  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  " 

"  Why,  he's  a  famous  man,  Mr.  Mayor.  All 
London's  talking  of  him." 

"  I  never  heard  his  name  in  my  life  before," 
said  the  Mayor. 


12  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Oil,  he's  a  genius.  His  poems  are  all  the 
rage.     You'll  have  to  read  them  now." 

"  He's  having  a  lot  done  up  there,"  remarked 
the  Mayor.  "Johnstone's  got  the  job.  Mr. 
Bannister  don't  know  as  much  about  Johnstone 
as  some  of  us." 

"  How  should  he  .''  "  said  Roberts,  smiling. 

"Johnstone's  buildin'  'im  a  room.  It  '11 
tumble    down." 

"Oh,  come,  Mr.  Mayor,  you're  prejudiced.'' 

"  No  man  can  say  that  of  me,  sir.  But  I 
knows — I  know  Johnstone,  Doctor.  That's 
where  it  is  !  " 

"Well,  I  hope  Johnstone's  room  won't  fall 
on  him.  We  can't  spare  Dale  Bannister. 
Good-day,    Mr.    Mayor." 

"  Where  are  you  goin'  .-*  " 

"  To  Tom  Steadman's." 

"  Is  he  bad  again  ?  "  inquired  the  Mayor,  with 
interest. 

"  Yes.  He  broke  out  last  week,  with  the 
usual  result." 

"  Broke  out  ?  Yes  !  He  had  two  gallons  of 
beer  and  a  bottle  o'  gin  off  the  '  Blue  Lion  '  in 
one  day,  the  landlord  told  me." 

"  They  ought  to  go  to  prison  for  serving 
him." 

"  Well,  well,  a  man  drinks  or  he  don't,"  said 
the  Mayor  tolerantly;  "and  if  he  does,  he'll 
get  it  some'ow.     Good-day,  sir." 

The  Doctor  completed  his  rounds,  including 
the  soothing  of  Tom  Steadman's  distempered 
imagination,  and  made  his  way  home  in  quite 
a  flutter  of  excitement.      Hidden  away  in  his 


THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  LITTLEHILL.  13 

Study,  underneath  heavy  medical  works  and 
voluminous  medical  journals,  where  the  eye  of 
patients  could  not  reach,  nor  the  devastations 
of  them  that  tidy  disturb,  lay  the  two  or  three 
little  volumes  which  held  Dale  Bannister's 
poems.  The  Doctor  would  not  have  admitted 
that  the  poems  were  purposely  concealed,  but 
he  certainly  did  not  display  them  ostentatiously, 
and  he  undoubtedly  told  his  wife,  with  much 
decision,  that  lie  was  sure  they  would  not  prove 
to  her  taste.  Yet  he  himself  almost  worshiped 
them  ;  all  the  untamed  revolt,  the  recklessness 
of  thought,  the  scorn  of  respectability,  the  scant 
regard  to  what  the  world  called  propriety,  which 
he  had  nourished  in  his  own  heart  in  his  youth, 
finding  no  expression  for  them,  and  from  which 
the  binding  chains  of  fate  seemed  now  forever 
to  restrain  his  spirit,  were  in  those  three  slim 
volumes.  First  came  "  The  Clarion  and  other 
Poems,"  a  very  small  book,  published  by  a  very 
small  firm — published  for  the  author,  though 
the  Doctor  did  not  know  this,  and  circulated  at 
the  expense  of  the  same ;  then  "  Sluggards,"  from 
a  larger  firm,  tlie  source  of  some  few  guineas  to 
Dale  Bannister,  of  hundreds  more  if  he  had  not 
sold  his  copyright  ;  and  lastly,  "  The  Hypocrite's 
Heaven,"  quite  a  lengthy  production,  blazoning 
the  name  of  the  leading  house  of  all  the  trade, 
and  bearing  in  its  train  a  wealth  of  gold,  and 
praise,  and  fame  for  the  author  :  yes,  and  of 
rebuke,  remonstrance,  blame,  and  hands  up- 
lifted in  horror  at  so  much  vice  united  to  so 
much  genius.  Praise  and  rebuke  alike  brought 
new  bricks  to  build  the  pyramid  of  glory ;  and 


14  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

on  the  top  of  it,  an  object  of  al)horrence  and  of 
worship,  stood  the  young  poet,  prodigally  scat- 
tering songs,  which,  as  one  critic  of  position  said 
of  them,  should  never  have  been  written,  but 
being  written,  could  never  die.  Certainly  the 
coming  of  such  a  man  to  settle  there  was  an 
event  for  Market  Denborough  ;  it  was  a  glori- 
ous chance  for  the  poet's  silent,  secret  disciple. 
He  would  see  the  man  ;  he  might  speak  with 
him  ;  if  fortune  willed,  his  name  might  yet  be 
known,  for  no  merit  of  his,  but  as  that  of  Dale 
Bannister's  friend. 

Women  have  very  often,  and  the  best  of 
women  most  often,  a  provoking  sedateness  of 
mind.  Mrs.  Roberts  had  never  read  the  poems. 
True,  but  she  had,  of  course,  read  about  them, 
and  about  their  author,  and  about  their  certain 
immortality  ;  yet  she  was  distinctly  more  inter- 
ested in  the  tidings  of  Tom  Steadman,  a 
wretched  dipsomaniac,  than  in  the  unparalleled 
news  about  Dale  Bannister.  In  her  heart  she 
thought  the  Doctor  a  cleverer,  as  she  had  no 
doubt  he  was  a  better,  man  than  the  poet,  and 
the  nearest  approach  she  made  to  grasping  the 
real  significance  of  the  situation  was  when  she 
remarked  : 

"  It  will  be  nice  for  him  to  find  one  man,  at 
all  events,  who  can  appreciate  him." 

The  Doctor  smiled  ;  he  was  pleased— who 
would  not  be  ? — that  his  wife  should  think  first 
of  the  pleasure  Dale  Bannister  would  find  in 
his  society.  It  was  absurd,  but  it  was  charm- 
ing of  her,  and  as  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  his 
chair,  he  put  his  arm  round  his  waist  and  said : 


THE  NEW  MAN  A  T  LITTLEHILL.  15 

"  I  beat  him  in  one  thing,  anyhow." 

"  What's  that,  Jim  ?" 

"  My  wife.     He  has  no  wife  Hke  mine." 

"  Has  he  a  wife  at  all  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Roberts, 

with   increased  interest.     A  wife  was  another 

matter. 

"  I  believe  not,  but  if  he  had " 

"  Don't  be  silly.    Did  you  leave  Tom  quiet  ?  " 
"  Hang  Tom  !   he  deserves  it.     And  give  me 

my  tea." 

Then  came  the  baby,  and  with  it  an  end,  for 

the  time,  of  Dale  Bannister. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Denborougb  Determines  to  Call. 

WILL  awake  the  world,"  Dale  Bannis- 
ter had  once  declared  in  the  insolence 
of  youth  and  talent  and  the  privacy  of 
a  gathering  of  friends.  The  boast  was 
perhaps  as  little  absurd  in  his  mouth  as  it  could 
ever  be;  yet  it  was  very  absurd,  for  the  world 
sleeps  hard,  and  habit  has  taught  it  to  slumber 
peacefully  through  the  batterings  of  impatient 
genius  at  its  door.  At  the  most,  it  turns  uneasily 
on  its  side,  and,  with  a  curse  at  the  meddlesome 
fellow,  snores  again.  So  Dale  Bannister  did  not 
awake  the  world.  But,  within  a  month  of  his 
coming  to  Littlehill,  he  performed  an  exploit 
which  was,  though  on  a  smaller  scale,  hardly 
less  remarkable.  He  electrified  Market  Den- 
borough,  and  the  shock  penetrated  far  out  into 
the  surrounding  districts  of  Denshire —even 
Denshire,  whicli,  remote  from  villas  and  season- 
tickets,  had  almost  preserved  pristine  simplicity. 
Men  spoke  with  low-voiced  awe  and  apprecia- 
tive twinkling  of  the  eye  of  the  "  doings  "  at 
Littlehill :  their  wives  thought  that  they  might 
be  better  employed  ;  and  their  children  hung 
about  the  gates  to  watch  the  young  man  and 
his  guests  come  out.     There  was  disappoint- 


DENBOROUGH  DETERMINES  TO  CALL.      I? 

ment  when  no  one  came  to  cliurch  from  Little- 
hill;  yet  there  would  have  been  disappointment 
if  anyone  had  :  it  would  have  jarred  with  the 
fast-growing  popular  conception  of  the  house- 
hold. To  the  strictness  of  Denborough  moral- 
ity, by  which  no  sin  was  leniently  judged  save 
drunkenness,  Littlehill  seemed  a  den  of  jovial 
wickedness,  and  its  inhabitants  to  reck  nothing 
of  censure,  human  or  divine. 

As  might  be  expected  by  all  who  knew  him, 
the  Mayor  had  no  hand  in  this  hasty  and 
uncharitable  judgment.  London  was  no 
strange  land  to  him  ;  he  went  up  four  times  a 
year  to  buy  his  stock  ;  London  ways  were  not 
Denshire  ways,  he  admitted,  but,  for  all  that, 
they  were  not  to  be  condemned  off-hand  nor 
interpreted  in  the  worst  light  without  some 
pause  for  better  knowledge. 

"  It  takes  all  sorts  to  make  a  world,"  said 
he,  as  he  drank  his  afternoon  draught  at  the 
"  Delane  Arms,"  where  the  civic  aristocracy 
was  wont  to  gather. 

"  He's  free  enough  and  to  spare  with  'is 
money,"  said  Alderman  Johnstone,  with  satis- 
faction. 

"  You  ought  to  know,  Johnstone,"  remarked 
the  Mayor  significantly. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  see  no  'arm  in  him,"  said  Mr. 
Maggs,  the  horse-dealer,  a  rubicund  man  of 
pleasant  aspect ;  "  and  he's  a  rare  'un  to  deal 
with." 

Interest  centered  on  Mr.  Maggs.  Apparently 
he  had  spoken  with  Dale  Bannister. 

"  He's  half  crazy,  o'  course,"  continued  that 


I8  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

gentleman,  "  but  as  pleasant-spoken,  'earty  a 
young  gent  as  I've  seen." 

"  Is  he  crazy  ?  "  asked  the  girl  behind  tlie 
bar. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  say  }  He  came  down 
a  day  or  two  ago,  'e  and  'is  friend,  Mr. 
'Ume " 

"  Hume,"  said  the  Mayor,  with  emphasis. 
The  Mayor,  while  occasionally  following  the 
worse,  saw  the  better  way. 

"  Yes,  'Ume.  Mr.  Bannister  wanted  a  'orse. 
'  What's  your  figger,  sir  }  '  says  I.  He  took 
no  notice,  but  began  looking  at  me  with  'is  eyes 
wide  open,  for  all  the  world  as  if  I'd  never  spoke. 
Then  he  says,  '  I  want  a  'orse,  broad-backed 
and  fallen  in  the  vale  o'  years.'  Them  was  "is 
very  words." 

"  You  don't  say  ?  "  said  the  girl. 

"  I  never  knowed  what  he  meant,  no  more 
than  that  pint-pot ;  but  Mr.  'Ume  laughed  and 
says,  •  Don't  be  a  fool.  Dale,'  and  told  me  that 
Mr.  Bannister  couldn't  ride  no  more  than  a 
tailor — so  he  said — and  wanted  a  steady,  quiet 
'orse.  He  got  one  from  me — four-and-twenty 
years  old,  warranted  not  to  gallop.  I  see  'im 
on  her  to  day — and  it's  lucky  she  is  quiet." 

"  Can't  he  ride  }  " 

"  No  more  than  " —  a  fresh  simile  failed  Mr. 
Maggs,  and  he  concluded  again — "  that  pint- 
pot.  But  Mr.  'Ume  can.  'E's  a  nice  set  on  a 
'orse." 

The  Mayor  had  been  meditating.  He  was  a 
little  jealous  of  Mr.  Maggs'  superior  intimacy 
with  the  distinguished    stranger,  or  perhaps  it 


DENBOROUGH  DETERMIXES  TO  CALL.      19 

was  merely  that  he  was  suddenly  struck  with  a 
sense  of  remissness  in  his  official  duties. 

"  I  think,"  he  announced,  "of  callin'  on  him 
and  welcomin'  him  to  the  town." 

There  was  a  chorus  of  approbation,  broken 
only  by  a  sneer  from  Alderman  Johnstone. 

"  Ay,  and  take  'im  a  bottle  of  that  cod-liver 
oil  of  yours  at  two-and-three.     'E  can  afford  it." 

"  Not  after  payin'  your  bill,  Johnstone," 
retorted  the  Mayor,  with  a  triumphant  smile. 
A  neat  repartee  maketh  glad  the  heart  of  the 
utterer. 

The  establishment  at  Littlehill  and  the  proper 
course  to  be  pursued  in  regard  to  it  were  also 
the  subject  of  consideration  in  circles  more 
genteel  even  than  that  which  gathered  at  the 
"  Delane  Arms."  At  Dirkham  Grange  itself 
the  topic  was  discussed,  and  Mr.  Delane  was 
torn  with  doubts  whether  his  duty  as  landlord 
called  upon  him  to  make  Dale  Bannister's 
acquaintance,  or  his  duty  as  custodian-general 
of  the  laws  and  proprieties  of  life  in  his  corner 
of  the  world  forbade  any  sanction  being  given  to 
a  household  of  which  such  reports  were  on  the 
wing.  People  looked  to  the  Squire,  as  he  was 
commonly  called,  for  guidance  in  social  matters, 
and  he  was  aware  of  the  responsibility  under 
which  he  lay.  If  he  called  at  Littlehill,  half  the 
county  would  be  likely  enough  to  follow  his 
example.  And  perhaps  it  might  not  be  good 
for  half  the  county  to  know  Dale  Bannister. 

"  I  must  consider  the  matter,"  he  said  at 
breakfast. 

"  Well,    one    does     hear    strange     things," 


20  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

remarked  Mrs.  Delane.  "  And  aren't  his 
poems  very  odd,  George  ?  " 

The  Squire  had  not  accorded  to  the  works 
referred  to  a  very  close  study,  but  he  answered 
offhand  : 

"  Yes,  I  hear  so  ;  not  at  all  sound  in  tone. 
But  then,  my  dear,  poets  have  a  standard  of 
their  own." 

"  Of  course,  there  was  Byron,"  said  Mrs. 
Delane. 

"And  perhaps  we  mustn't  be  too  hard  on 
him,"  pursued  the  Squire.  "  He's  a  very  young 
man,  and  no  doubt  has  considerable  ability." 

"  I  dare  say  he  has  never  met  anybody." 

"I'm  sure,  papa,"  interposed  Miss  Janet 
Delane,  "  that  it  would  have  a  good  effect  on 
him  to  meet  us." 

Mr.  Delane  smiled  at  his  daughter. 

"Would  you  like  to  know  him,  Jan.-*"  he 
asked. 

"  Of  course  I  should  !  He  wouldn't  be  dull, 
at  all  events,  like  most  of  the  men  about  here, 
Tora  Smith  said  the  Colonel  meant  to  call." 

"  Colonel  Smith  is  hardly  in  your  father's 
position,  my  dear." 

"  Oh,  since  old  Smith  had  his  row  with  the 
War  Office  about  that  pension,  he'll  call  on 
anybody  who's  for  upsetting  everything.  It's 
enough  for  him  that  a  man's  a  Radical." 

"  Tora  means  to  go,  too,"  said  Janet. 

"  Poor  child  !  It's  a  pity  she  hasn't  a 
mother,"  said  Mrs.  Delane. 

"  I  think  I  shall  go.  We  can  drop  him  if  he 
turns  out  badly." 


DENBOROUGH  DETEKMINES  TO  CALL.      21 

"  Very  well,  my  dear,  as  you  think  best." 

"  I'll  walk  over  on  Sunday.  I  don't  suppose 
he  objects  to  Sunday  calls." 

"  Not  on  the  ground  that  he  wants  to  go  to 
church,  at  all  events,"  remarked  Mrs.  Delane. 

"  Perhaps  he  goes  to  chapel,  mamma." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear,  he  doesn't  do  that."  Mrs. 
Delane  was  determined  to  be  just. 

"  Well,  he  was  the  son  of  a  Dissenting  minis- 
ter, mamma.     The  Critic  said  so." 

"  I  wonder  what  his  father  thinks  of  him," 
said  the  Squire,  with  a  slight  chuckle,  not  know- 
ing that  death  had  spared  Dale's  father  all 
chance  of  trouble  on  his  son's  score. 

"  Mrs.  Roberts  told  me,"  said  Janet,  "  that 
her  husband  had  been  to  see  him,  and  liked 
him  awfully." 

"  I  think  Roberts  had  better  have  waited," 
the  Squire  remarked,  w-ith  a  little  frown.  "In 
his  position  he  ought  to  be  very  careful  what  he 
does." 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  all  right  if  you  call,  papa." 

"  It  would  have  been  better  if  he  had  let  me 
go  first." 

Mr.  Delane  spoke  with  some  severity.  Apart 
from  his  position  of  overlord  of  Denborough. 
which,  indeed,  he  could  not  but  feel  was  pre- 
carious in  these  innovating  days,  he  thought  he 
had  special  claims  to  be  consulted  by  the 
Doctor.  He  had  taken  him  up ;  his  influence 
had  gained  him  his  appointment  at  Dirkham 
and  secured  him  the  majority  of  his  more 
wealthy  clientele  ;  his  good  will  had  opened  to 
the    young   unknown    man   the   doors   of    the 


22  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Grange,  and  to  his  wife  the  privilege  of  con- 
siderable intimacy  with  the  Grange  ladies.  It 
was  certainly  a  little  hasty  in  the  Doctor  not  to 
wait  for  a  lead  from  the  Grange,  before  he 
flung  himself  into  Dale  Bannister's  arms. 

All  these  considerations  were  urged  by  Janet 
in  her  father's  defense  when  his  title  to  approve, 
disapprove,  or  in  any  way  concern  himself  with 
Dr.  Roberts'  choice  of  friends  and  associates 
was  vigorously  questioned  by  Tora  Smith, 
Colonel  Smith — he  had  been  Colonel  Barring- 
ton-Smith,  but  he  did  not  see  now  what  a  man 
wanted  with  two  names — was,  since  his  differ- 
ence with  the  authorities,  a  very  strong  Radical ; 
on  principle  he  approved  of  anything  of  which 
his  friends  and  neighbors  were  likely  on  princi- 
ple to  disapprove.  Among  other  such  things, 
he  approved  of  Dale  Bannister's  views  and 
works,  and  of  the  Doctor's  indifference  to  Mr. 
Delane's  opinion.  And,  just  as  Janet  was  more 
of  a  Tory  than  her  father,  Tora— she  had  been 
unhappily  baptized  in  the  absurd  names  of 
Victoria  Regina  in  the  loyal  days  before  the 
grievance  ;  but  nothing  was  allowed  to  survive 
of  them  which  could  possibly  be  dropped — was 
more  Radical  than  her  father,  and  she  ridiculed 
the  Squire's  pretensions  with  an  extravagance 
which  Sir  Harry  Fulmer,  who  was  calling  at  the 
Smiths'  when  Janet  came  in,  thought  none  the 
less  charming  for  being  very  unreasonable.  Sir 
Hariy,  however,  suppressed  his  opinion  on  both 
these  points — as  to  its  being  charming,  be- 
cause matters  had  not  yet  reached  the  stagfe 
when   he  could  declare  it,  and  as  to  its  being 


DENBOROUGH  DETERMINES  TO  CALL.      23 

unreasonable,  because  he  was  by  hereditary 
right  the  head  of  the  Liberal  party  in  the  dis- 
trict, and  tried  honestly  to  live  up  to  the  posi- 
tion by  a  constant  sacrifice  of  his  dearest  prej- 
udices on  the  altar  of  progress. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  said  in  reply  to  an  appeal 
from  Tora,  "  that  a  man  has  a  right  to  please 
himself  in  such  things." 

"  After  all  papa  has  done  for  him  !  Besides, 
Sir  Harry,  you  know  a  doctor  ought  to  be  par- 
ticularly careful." 

"  What  is  there  so  dreadful  about  Mr.  Ban- 
nister ?  "  asked  Tora.     "  He  looks  very  nice." 

"  Have  you  seen  him,  Tora .''  "  asked  Janet 
eagerly. 

"  Yes  ;  we  met  him  riding  on  such  a  queer  old 
horse.  He  looked  as  if  he  was  going  to  tumble 
off  every  minute  ;  he  can't  ride  a  bit.  But  he's 
awfully  handsome." 

"  What's  he  like  ?  " 

"  Oh,  tall,  not  very  broad,  with  beautiful  eyes, 
and  a  lot  of  waving  auburn  hair;  he  doesn't 
wear  it  clipped  like  a  toothbrush.  And  he's 
got  a  long  mustache,  and  a  straight  nose,  and 
a  charming  smile.     Hasn't  he,  Sir  Harry  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  notice  particularly.  He's  not  a 
bad-looking  chap.     Looks  a  bit  soft,  though." 

"  Soft .''  why,  he's  a  tremendous  genius,  papa 
says." 

"  I  didn't  mean  that ;  I  mean  flabby  and  out 
of  training,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  he  isn't  always  shooting  or  hunting,  of 
course,"  said  Tora  contemptuously. 

"I   don't   suppose,"    remarked   Janet,  "that 


24  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

in  his  position  of  life, — well,  you  know,  Tora, 
he's  of  quite  humble  birth, — he  ever  had  the 
chance." 

"  He's  none  the  worse  for  that,"  said  Sir 
Harry  stoutly. 

"  The  worse .''  J  think  he's  the  better.  Papa 
is  going  to  ask  him  here." 

"  You're  quite  enthusiastic,  Tora." 

"  I  love  to  meet  new  people.  One  sees  the 
same  faces  year  after  year  in  Denshire." 

Sir  Harry  felt  that  this  remark  was  a  little 
unkind. 

"  I  like  old  friends,"  he  said,  "  better  than 
new  ones." 

Janet  rose  to  go. 

"  We  must  wait  and  hear  papa's  report,"  she 
said,  as  she  took  her  leave. 

Tora  Smith  escorted  her  to  the  door,  kissed 
her,  and,  returning,  said,  with  a  snap  of  her 
fingers  : 

"  I  don't  care  that  for  '  papa's  report.'  Jan 
is  really  too  absurd." 

"  It's  nice  to  see  her " 

"  Oh,  delightful.     I  hate  dutiful  people  !  " 

"  You  think  just  as  much  of  your  father." 

"  We  happen  to  agree  in  our  opinions,  but 
papa  always  tells  me  to  use  my  own  judgment. 
Are  you  going  to  see  Mr.  Bannister  .''  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  He  won't  hurt  me,  and  he 
may  subscribe  to  the  hunt." 

"  No  ;  he  may  even  improve  you." 

"  Do  I  want  it  so  badly,  Miss  Smith  }  " 

"  Yes.     You're  a  weak-kneed  man." 

"  Oh,  I  say  !    Look  here,  you  must  help  me." 


DENBOROUGH  DETERMINES  TO  CALL.     25 

"  Perhaps  I  will,  if  Mr.  Bannister  is  not  too 
engrossing." 

"  Now  you're  trying  to  draw  me." 

"  Was  I }  And  yet  you  looked  pleased. 
Perhaps  you  think  it  a  compliment." 

"  Isn't  it  one  ?  It  shows  you  think  it  worth 
while  to " 

"  It  shows  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Tora 
decisively. 

Thus,  for  one  reason  or  another,  from  one 
direction  and  another,  there  was  converging  on 
Littlehill  a  number  of  visitors.  If  your  neigh- 
bor excites  curiosity,  it  is  a  dull  imagination 
that  finds  no  plausible  reason  for  satisfying  it. 
Probably  there  was  more  in  common  than  at 
first  sight  appeared  between  Mr.  Delane's  sense 
of  duty,  the  Mayor's  idea  of  official  courtesy. 
Colonel  Smith's  contempt  for  narrowness  of 
mind.  Sir  Harry  Fulmer's  care  for  the  interests 
of  the  hunt,  and  Dr.  Roberts'  frank  and  undis- 
guised eagerness  to  see  and  speak  with  Dale 
Bannister  face  to  face. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

a  (auiet  SunDag  Zlftcrnoon. 

fO  dissolve  public  report  into  its  com- 
ponent parts  is  never  a  light  task. 
Analysis,  as  a  rule,  reveals  three  con- 
stituents :  truth,  embroidery,  and  mere 
falsehood ;  but  the  proportions  vary  infinitely. 
Denborough,  which  went  to  bed,  to  a  man,  at 
ten  o'clock,  or  so  soon  after  as  it  reached  home 
from  the  public  house,  said  that  the  people  at 
Littlehill  sat  up  very  late  ;  this  was  truth,  at 
least  relative  truth,  and  that  is  all  we  can  expect 
here.  It  said  that  they  habitually  danced  and 
sang  the  night  through  ;  this  was  embroidery ; 
they  had  once  danced  and  sung  the  night 
through,  when  Dale  had  a  party  from  London. 
It  said  that  orgies — if  the  meaning  of  its  nods, 
winks,  and  smiles  may  be  summarized — went 
on  at  Littlehill ;  this  was  falsehood.  Dale  and 
his  friends  amused  themselves,  and  it  must  be 
allowed  that  their  enjoyment  was  not  marred, 
but  rather  increased,  by  the  knowledge  that 
they  did  not  command  the  respect  of  Den- 
borough. They  had  no  friends  there.  Why 
should  they  care  for  Denborough's  approval  ? 
Denborough's  approval  was  naught,  whereas 
Denborough's  disapproval   ministered    to    the 


A   QUIET  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON.  27 

pleasure  most  of  us  feel  in  giving  gentle  shocks 
to  our  neighbors' sense  of  propriety.  No  doubt 
an  electric  eel  enjoys  itself.  But,  after  all,  if 
the  mere  truth  must  be  told,  they  were  mild 
sinners  at  Littlehill,  the  leading  spirits,  Dale  and 
Arthur  Angell,  being  indeed  young  men  whose 
antinomianism  found  a  harmless  issue  in  ink, 
and  whose  lawlessness  was  best  expressed  in 
meter.  A  cynic  once  married  his  daughter  to  a 
professed  athiest,  on  the  ground  that  the  man 
could  not  afford  to  be  other  than  an  exemplary 
husband  and  father.  Poets  are  not  trammeled 
so  tight  as  that,  for,  as  Mrs.  Delane  remarked, 
there  was  Byron,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  more  ; 
yet,  for  the  most  part,  she  who  marries  a  poet 
has  nothing  worse  than  nerves  to  fear.  But  a 
little  lawlessness  will  go  a  long  way  in  the  right 
place, — for  example,  lawn-tennis  on  Sunday  in 
the  suburbs, — and  the  Littlehill  party  extorted  a 
gratifying  meed  of  curiosity  and  frowns,  which 
were  not  entirely  undeserved  by  some  of  their 
doings,  and  were  more  than  deserved  by  what 
was  told  of  their  doings. 

After  luncheon  on  Sunday,  Mr.  Delane  had 
a  nap,  as  his  commendable  custom  was.  Then 
he  took  his  hat  and  stick  and  set  out  for  Little- 
hill. The  Grange  park  stretches  to  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  and  borders  in  part  on  the 
grounds  of  Littlehill,  so  that  the  Squire  had  a 
pleasant  walk  under  the  cool  shade  of  his  own 
immemorial  elms,  and  enjoyed  the  satisfaction 
of  inspecting  his  own  most  excellent  shorthorns. 
Reflecting  on  the  elms  and  the  shorthorns,  and 
on  the  house,  the  acres,  and   the   family  that 


23  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

were  his,  he  admitted  that  he  had  been  born  to 
advantages  and  opportunities  such  as  fell  to  the 
lot  of  a  few  men  ;  and,  inspired  to  charity  by  the 
distant  church-bell  sounding  over  the  meadows, 
he  acknowledged  a  corresponding  duty  of  leni- 
ent judgment  in  respect  of  the  less  fortunate. 
Thus  he  arrived  at  Littlehill  in  a  tolerant  tem- 
per, and  contented  himself  with  an  indulgent 
shake  of  the  head  when  he  saw  the  gravel  fresh 
marked  with  horses'  hoofs. 

"  Been  riding  instead  of  going  to  church,  the 
young  rascals,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  rang 
the  bell. 

A  small,  shrewd-faced  man  opened  the  door 
and  ushered  Mr.  Delane  into  the  hall.  Then 
he  stopped. 

"  If  you  go  straight  on,  sir,  "  said  he, 
"  through  that  baize  door,  and  across  the 
passage,  and  through  the  opposite  door,  you 
will  find  Mr.  Bannister." 

Mr.  Delane's  face  expressed  surprise. 

"  Mr.  Bannister,  sir,"  the  man  explained, 
"  don't  like  visitors  being  announced,  sir.  If 
you  would  be  so  kind  as  walk  in " 

It  was  a  harmless  whim,  and  the  Squire 
nodded  assent.  He  passed  through  the  baize 
door,  crossed  the  passage,  and  paused  before 
opening  the  opposite  door.  The  sounds  which 
came  from  behind  it  arrested  his  attention. 
To  the  accompaniment  of  a  gentle  drumming 
noise,  as  if  of  sticks  or  umbrellas  bumped 
against  the  floor,  a  voice  was  declaiming,  or 
rather  chanting,  poetry.  The  voice  rose  and 
fell,    and    Mr.    Delane    could    not   distinguish 


A  QUIET  SUNDAY  A  FTEKNOO.V.  ^0 

the   words,  until    it   burst   forth    triumphantly 
with  the  lines : 

"  Love  grows  hate  for  love's  sake,  life  takes  death  for 
guide ; 
Night  hath  none  but  one  red  star — Tyrannicide." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  said  Mr.  Delane. 
The  voice  dropped  again  for  a  few  moments, 
then  it  hurled  out : 

"  Down  the  way  of  Tsars  awhile  in  vain  deferred, 
Bid  the  Second  Alexander  light  the  Third. 
How  for  shame  shall  men  rebuke  them  ?  how  may  we 
Blame,  whose  fathers  died  and  slew,  to  leave  us  free  ?  " 

The  voice  was  interrupted  and  drowned  by 
the  crash  of  the  pianoforte,  struck  with  remorse- 
less force,  and  another  voice,  the  voice  of  a 
woman,  cried,  rising  even  above  the  crash  : 

"  Now,  one  of  your  own.  Dale." 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  in,"  thought  Mr.  Delane, 
and  he  knocked  loudly  at  the  door. 

He  was  bidden  to  enter  by  the  former  of  the 
two  voices,  and,  going  in,  found  himself  in  a 
billiard  room.  Five  or  six  people  sat  round  the 
wall  on  settees,  each  holding  a  cue,  with  which 
they  were  still  gently  strumming  on  the  floor. 
A  stout,  elderly  woman  was  at  the  piano,  and 
a  young  man  sat  cross-legged  in  the  middle  of 
the  billiard-table,  with  a  book  in  one  hand  and 
a  cigar  in  the  other.  There  was  a  good  deal 
of  tobacco  smoke  in  the  room,  and  Mr.  Delane 
did  not  at  first  distinguish  the  faces  of  the  com- 
pany. 

The  young  man  on  the  table  uncoiled  himself 
with  great  agility,  jumped  down,  and  came  for- 


30  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

ward  to  meet  the  newcomer  with  outstretched 
hands.  As  he  outstretched  them,  he  dropped 
the  book  and  the  cigar  to  the  ground  on  either 
side  of  him. 

"  Ah,  here  you  are !  Delightful  of  you  to 
come  !"  he  cried.     "  Now,  let  me  guess  you  !  " 

"  Mr.  Bannister  } — Have  I  the  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes.  Now  let's  see — don't  tell  me  your 
name." 

He  drew  back  a  step,  surveyed  Mr.  Delane's 
portly  figure,  his  dignified  carriage,  his  plain 
solid  watch-chain,  his  square-toed  strong  boots. 

"  The  Squire  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Mr.  Delane, 
isn't  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  Mr.  Delane." 

"  Good  !  You  don't  mind  being  guessed,  do 
you  .-*  It's  so  much  more  amusing.  What  will 
you  have  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  I've  lunched,  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  Have  you  ?  We've  just  breakfasted — had  a 
ride  before,  you  know.  But  I  must  introduce 
you." 

He  searched  the  floor,  picked  up  the  cigar, 
looked  at  it  regretfully,  and  threw  it  out  of  an 
open  window. 

"  This,"  he  resumed,  waiving  his  hand  toward 
the  piano, "  is  Mrs.  Ernest  Hodge.  This  is  Miss 
Fane,  Mrs.  Hodge's  daughter — no,  not  by  a 
first  marriage  ;  everybody  suggests  that.  Pro- 
sessional  name,  you  know — she  sings.  Hodge 
really  wouldn't  do,  would  it,  Mrs.  Hodge  ?  This 
is  Philip  Hume.  This  is  Arthur  Angell,  who 
writes  verses — like  me.  This  is — but  I  expect 
you  know  these  gentlemen  ?  " 


A  QUIET  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON.  3 1 

Mr.  Delaiie  peered  through  the  smoke  which 
Philip  Hume  was  producing  from  a  long  pipe, 
and  to  his  amazement  discerned  three  familiar 
faces  :  those  of  Dr.  Roberts,  the  Mayor,  and 
Alderman  Johnstone.  The  Doctor  was  flushed 
and  looked  excited  ;  the  Mayor  was  a  picture 
of  dignified  complacency ;  Johnstone  appeared 
embarrassed  and  uncomfortable,  for  his  bald 
head  was  embellished  with  a  flowery  garland. 
Dale  saw  Mr.  Delane's  eyes  rest  on  this  article. 

"  We  always  crown  anybody  who  adds  to  our 
knowledge,"  he  explained.  "  He  gets  a  wreath 
of  honor.  The  Alderman  added  to  our  knowl- 
edge of  the  expense  of  building  a  room.  So 
Miss  Fane  crowned  him." 

An  appreciative  chuckle  from  the  Mayor  fol- 
lowed this  explanation  ;  he  knocked  the  butt  of 
his  cue  against  the  floor,  and  winked  at  Philip 
Hume. 

The  last-named,  seeing  that  Mr.  Delane  was 
somewhat  surprised  at  the  company,  came  up 
to  him  and  said  : 

"  Come  and  sit  down  ;  Dale  never  remembers 
that  anybody  wants  a  seat.  Here's  an  arm- 
chair." 

Mr.  Delane  sat  down  next  to  Miss  Fane,  and 
noticed,  even  in  his  perturbation,  that  his  neigh- 
bor was  a  remarkably  pretty  girl,  with  fair  hair 
clustering  in  a  thick  mass  on  the  nape  of  her 
neck,  and  large  blue  eyes  which  left  gazing  on 
Dale  Bannister  when  their  owner  turned  to 
greet  him.  Mr.  Delane  would  have  enjoyed 
talking  to  her,  had  not  his  soul  been  vexed  at 
the  presence  of  the   three   Denborough   men. 


32  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

One  did  not  expect  to  meet  the  tradesmen  of 
the  town ;  and  what  business  had  the  Doctor 
there?  To  spend  Sunday  in  that  fashion  would 
not  increase  his  popularity  or  his  practice. 
And  then  that  nonsense  about  the  wreath  ! 
How  undignified  it  was !  it  was  even  worse 
than  yelling  out  Nihilistic  verses  by  way  of  Sab- 
bath amusement. 

"  I  shall  get  away  as  soon  as  I  can,"  he 
thought,  "  and  I  shall  say  a  word  to  the  Doc- 
tor." 

He  was  called  from  his  meditations  by  Miss 
Fane.  She  sat  in  a  low  chair  with  her  feet  on 
a  stool,  and  now,  tilting  the  chair  back,  she 
fixed  her  eyes  on  Mr.  Delane,  and  asked  : 

"Are  you  shocked  }  " 

No  man  likes  to  admit  that  he  is  shocked. 

"  I  am  not,  but  many  people  would  be." 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  like  meeting  those 
men  .'' " 

"  Hedger  is  an  honest  man  in  his  way  of  life. 
I  have  no  great  opinion  of  Johnstone." 

"  This  is  your  house,  isn't  it .''  " 

"Yes." 

"  All  the  houses  about  here  are  yours,  aren't 
they  ?  " 

"  Most  of  them  are,  Miss  Fane." 

•'  Then  you  are  a  great  man  ?  " 

The  question  was  put  so  simply  that  Mr. 
Delane  could  not  suspect  a  sarcastic  intent. 

"  Only  locally,"  he  answered,  smiling. 

"  Have  you  any  daughters?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes;  one.  ' 

"  What  is  she  like?" 


A   QUIET  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON.  33 

"  Fancy  asking  her  father  !  1  think  Janet  a 
beauty." 

"  Fair  or  dark  ?  " 

"  Dark." 

"  Dale  Ukes  dark  girls.     Tall  or  short  }  " 

"  Tall." 

"  Good  eyes?  " 

"  I  like  them." 

"  Oh,  that  '11  do.  Dale  will  like  her  ;  "  and 
Miss  Fane  nodded  reassuringly.  Mr.  Delane 
had  not  the  heart  to  intimate  his  indifference  to 
Dale  Bannister's  opinion  of  his  daughter. 

"  Do  you  know  this  country  .-*  "  he  asked,  by 
way  of  conversation. 

"  We've  only  been  here  a  week,  but  we've 
ridden  a  good  deal.  We  hold  Dale  on,  you 
know." 

"  You  are  on  a  visit  to  Mr.  Bannister  }  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  mother  and  I  are  here." 

Mr.  Delane  could  not  help  wondering 
whether  their  presence  was  such  a  matter  9f 
course  as  her  tone  implied,  but  before  he  could 
probe  the  matter  further,  he  heard  Dale 
exclaim  : 

"  Oh,  it's  a  wretched  thing  !  Read  it  your- 
self, Roberts." 

"  Mount  him  on  the  rostrum,"  cried  the  young 
man  who  had  been  presented  to  Mr.  Delane  as 
Arthur  Angell,  and  who  had  hitherto  been 
engaged  in  an  animated  discussion  with  the 
Doctor. 

Laughing,  and  only  half  resisting,  the  Doctor 
allowing  himself  to  be  hoisted  on  to  the  billiard- 
table,  sat  down,  and  announced  in  a  loud  voice  : 


34  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  '  Blood  for  Blood'  :  by  Dale  Bannister." 

The  poem  which  bore  this  alarming  title  was 
perhaps  the  most  outrageous  of  the  author's 
works.  It  held  up  to  ridicule  and  devoted  to 
damnation  every  person  and  every  institution 
which  the  Squire  respected  and  worshiped. 
And  the  misguided  young  man  declaimed  it 
with  sparkling  eyes  and  emphasizing  gestures, 
as  though  every  wicked  word  of  it  were  gospel. 
And  to  this  man's  charge  were  committed  the 
wives  and  families  of  the  citizens  of  Den- 
borough  !  The  Squire's  self-respect  demanded 
a  protest.  He  rose  with  dignity,  and  went  up 
to  his  host. 

"  Good-by,  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  What  ?  you're  not  going  yet  ?  What  ? 
Does  this  stuff  bore  you  }  " 

"  It  does  not  bore  me.  But  I  must  add — 
excuse  an  old-fashioned  fellow — that  it  does 
something  worse." 

"What?  Oh,  you're  on  the  other  side.'  Of 
course  you  are  !  " 

"  Whatever  side  I  was,  I  could  not  listen  to 
that.  As  an  older  man,  let  me  give  you  a  word 
of  advice." 

Dale  lifted  his  hands  in  good-humored  pro- 
test. 

"  Sorry  you  don't  like  it,"  he  said.  "  Shut  up, 
Roberts  !  If  I'd  known,  we  wouldn't  have  had 
it.     But  it's  true — true — true." 

The  Doctor  listened  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"  I  must  differ  utterly ;  I  must  indeed.  Good- 
by,  Mr.  Bannister.     Hedger.?  " 

The  Mayor  started. 


A  QUIET  SUNDAY  AFTERNOON.  35 

"I  an> walking  into  the  town.  Come  with 
me." 

The  Mayor  wavered.  The  Squire  stood  and 
waited  for  him. 

"  I  didn't  think  of  goin'  yet,  Mr.  Delane,  sir." 

Dale  watched  the  encounter  with  a  smile. 

"  Your  wife  will  expect  you,"  said  the  Squire. 
"  Come  along." 

The  Mayor  rose,  ignoring  Johnstone's  grin 
and  the  amusement  on  the  faces  of  the  company. 

"  I'll  come  and  look  you  up,"  said  Dale, 
pressing  the  Squire's  hand  warmly.  "  Oh,  it's 
all  right.  Tastes  differ.  I'm  not  offended. 
I'll  come  some  day  this  week." 

He  showed  them  out,  and,  returning,  said  to 
the  Doctor,  "  Roberts,  you'll  get  into  trouble." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  Doctor.  "What 
business  is  it  of  his .''  " 

Dale  had  turned  to  Johnstone. 

"  Good-by,"  said  he  abruptly.  "  We  close  at 
five." 

"  I've  'ad  a  pleasant  afternoon,  sir." 

"  It  will  be  deducted  from  your  bill,"  an- 
swered Dale. 

After  ejecting  Johnstone,  he  stood  by  the 
table,  looking  moodily  at  the  floor. 

"  What's  the  matter.  Dale  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Fane, 

"  I  suppose  he  thought  we  were  beasts  or 
or  lunatics." 

*'  Probably,"  said  Philip  Hume.  "  What 
then  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  answered  Dale,  smiling  again. 
"  You're  quite  right,  Phil.     What  then  }  " 


CHAPTER  V. 

XLbc  IRecessai'B  Scapegoat. 

]F  men  never  told  their  wives  anything, 
the  condition  of  society  would  no  doubt 
be  profoundly  modified,  though  it  is  not 
easy  to  forecast  the  precise  changes. 
If  a  guess  may  be  hazarded,  it  is  probable  that 
much  less  good  would  be  done,  and  some  less 
evil  said  :  the  loss  of  matter  of  interest  for  half 
the  world  may  be  allowed  to  sway  the  balance 
in  favor  of  the  present  practice— a  practice  so 
universal  that  Mr.  Delane,  the  Mayor,  and 
Alderman  Johnstone,  one  and  all,  followed  it 
by  telling  their  wives  about  their  Sunday  after- 
noon at  Littlehill.  Dr.  Roberts,  it  is  true,  gave 
a  meager  account  to  his  wife,  but  the  narra- 
tives of  the  other  three  amply  filled  the  gaps 
he  left,  and,  as  each  of  them  naturally  dwelt 
on  the  most  remarkable  features  of  their  enter- 
tainment, it  may  be  supposed  that  the  general 
impression  produced  in  Market  Denborough 
did  not  fall  short  of  the  truth  in  vividness  of 
color.  The  facts  as  to  what  occurred  have 
been  set  down  without  extenuation  and  without 
malice :  the  province  of  Market  Denborough 
society  was  to  supply  the  inferences  arising 
therefrom,  and  this  task  it  fulfilled  with  nq 
36 


THE  NEC  ESS  A  R  Y  SCA  PEGOA  T.  37 

grudging  hand.  Before  eight-and-forty  hours 
had  passed,  there  were  reports  that  the  Squire 
had  discovered  a  full-blown  Saturnalia  in  proc- 
ess at  Littlehill — and  that  in  these  scandalous 
proceedings  the  Mayor,  Alderman  Johnstone, 
and  Dr.  Roberts  were  participators. 

Then  ensued  conduct  on  the  part  of  the 
Mayor  and  the  Alderman  deserving  of  un- 
measured scorn.  They  could  not  deny  that 
dreadful  things  had  been  done  and  said,  though 
they  had  not  seen  the  deeds  nor  understood  the 
words  :  their  denial  would  have  had  no  chance 
of  credit.  They  could  not  venture  to  say  that 
Squire  Delane  had  done  anything  except  man- 
fully protest.  They  began  by  accusing  one 
another  in  round  terms,  but  each  found  him- 
self so  vulnerable  that  by  an  unholy  tacit  com- 
pact they  agreed  to  exonerate  one  another. 
The  Mayor  allowed  that  Johnstone  was  not  con- 
spicuous in  wickedness ;  Johnstone  admitted 
that  the  Mayor  had  erred,  if  at  all,  only  through 
weakness  and  good-nature.  Public  opinion 
demanded  a  sacrifice  ;  and  the  Doctor  was  left 
to  satisfy  it.  Everybody  was  of  one  mind  in 
holding  that  Dr.  Roberts  had  disgraced  himself, 
and  nobody  was  surprised  to  hear  that  the 
Squire's  phaeton  had  been  seen  standing  at  his 
door  for  half  an  hour  on  Wednesday  morning. 
The  Squire  was  within,  and  was  understood  to 
be  giving  the  Doctor  a  piece  of  his  mind. 

The  Doctor  was  stiff-necked. 

"  It  is  entirely  a  private  matter,"  said  he, 
"  and  no  one  has  a  right  to  dictate  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Roberts,  I  spoke  merely  in  your 


38  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

own  interest.  It  would  ruin  you  if  it  became 
known  that  you  held  those  atrocious  opinions; 
and  become  known  it  must,  if  you  openly  ally 
yourself  with  this  young  man." 

"  I  am  not  the  servant  of  the  people  I  attend. 
I  may  choose  my  own  opinions." 

"  Yes,  and  they  may  choose  their  own  doc- 
tor," retorted  the  Squire. 

The  two  parted,  almost  quarreling.  Perhaps 
they  would  have  quite  quarreled  had  not  the 
Squire  thought  of  Mrs.  Roberts  and  the  baby. 
He  wondered  that  the  Doctor  did  not  think  of 
them,  too,  but  he  seemed  to  Mr.  Delane  to  be 
under  such  a  spell  that  he  thought  of  nothing 
but  Dale  Bannister.  It  was  not  as  if  Roberts 
were  the  only  medical  man  in  the  place.  There 
was  young  Doctor  Spink — and  he  was  a  real 
M.  D. — up  the  street,  ready  and  eager  to  snap 
up  stray  patients.  And  Doctor  Spink  was  a 
churchwarden.  The  Squire  did  not  like  him 
overmuch,  but  he  found  himself  thinking 
whether  it  would  not  be  well  to  send  for  him 
next  time  there  was  a  case  of  illness  at  the 
Grange. 

The  Squire  meditated,  while  others  acted. 
On  her  walk  the  same  afternoon,  Ethel  Roberts 
heard  news  which  perturbed  her.  The  Vicar's 
wife  was  ill  and  Dr.  Spink  had  been  sent  for. 
The  Vicar  was  a  well-to-do  man.  He  had  a 
large  family,  which  yet  grew.  He  had  been  a 
constant  and  a  valuable  client  of  her  husband's. 
And  now  Dr.  Spink  was  sent  for. 

"  Jim,"  she  said,  "  did  you  know  that  Mrs. 
Gilkison  was  ill.'* 


THE  NECESSA  R  V  SCA PEGOA  T.  39 

"III?"  said  the  Doctor,  looking  up  from 
"  Sluggards."     "No,  I've  heard  nothing  of  it." 

She  came  and  leaned  over  his  chair. 

"  They've  sent  for  Dr.  Spink,"  she  said. 

"  What  .-* "  he  exclaimed,  dropping  his  beloved 
volume. 

"Mrs.  Hedger  told  me." 

"  Well,  they  can  do  as  they  like.  I  suppose 
his  '  Doctor '  is  the  attraction." 

•'  Do  you  think  it's  that,  dear  ?  " 

"What  else  can  it  be? — unless  it's  a  mere 
freak." 

"  Well,  Jim,  I  thought — I  thought  perhaps 
that  the  Vicar  had  heard  about— about — Little- 
hill.  Yes,  I  know  it's  very  stupid  and  narrow, 
dear — but  still " 

The  Doctor  swore  under  his  breath. 

"  I  can't  help  it  if  the  man's  an  ass,"  he  said. 

Ethel  smiled  .patiently. 

"  It's  a  pity  to  offend  people,  Jim,  dear,  isn't 
it?" 

"  Are  you  against  me  too,  Ethel  ?  " 

"Against  you?  You  know  I  never  would 
be,  but " 

"  Then  do  let  us  leave  Denborough  gossip 
alone.  Fancy  Denborough  taking  on  itself  to 
disapprove  of  Dale  Bannister  !     It's  too  rich  !  " 

Ethel  sighed.  Denborough's  disapproval 
was  no  doubt  a  matter  of  indifference  to  Dale 
Bannister  :  it  meant  loss  of  bread  and  butter 
to  James  Roberts  and  his  house. 

Meanwhile  Dale  Bannister,  all  unconscious  of 
the  dread  determinations  of  the  Vicar,  pursued 
his  way  in  cheerful  unconcern.     People  came 


40  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

and  went.  Arthur  Angell  returned  to  his 
haunts  rather  dissatisfied  with  the  quiet  of 
Littlehill,  but  rejoicing  to  have  found  in  the 
Doctor  one  thorough-going  beHever,  Mrs. 
Hodge,  her  daughter,  and  Philip  Hume  seemed 
to  be  permanent  parts  of  the  household.  Riding 
was  their  chief  amusement.  They  would  pass 
down  High  Street,  Dale  on  his  ancient  mare, 
with  Nellie  and  Philip  by  his  side,  laughing  and 
talking  merrily.  Dale's  own  voice  being  very 
audible  as  he  pointed  out,  with  amusement  a 
trifle  too  obvious  to  be  polite,  what  struck  him 
as  remarkable  in  Denborough  ways  of  life. 

Philip,  however,  whom  Mr.  Delane  had 
described  to  his  wife  as  the  only  apparently 
sane  person  at  Littlehill,  was  rather  uneasy  in 
his  mind  about  Roberts. 

"  You'll  get  that  fellow  disliked.  Dale,"  he 
said  one  morning.  "  if  you  don't  take  care." 

"  I  .-*  What  have  I  to  do  with  it }  "  asked 
Dale. 

"They'll  think  him  unsafe,  if  they  see  him 
with  you." 

"  He  needn't  come  unless  he  likes.  He's  not 
a  bad  fellow,  only  he  takes  everything  so  pre- 
cious seriously." 

"  He  thinks  you  do,  judging  by  your  books." 

"  Oh,  I  do  by  fits.  By  the  way,  I  have  a  fit 
now !  Behold,  I  will  write  !  Nellie  !  Where's 
Nellie.?" 

Nellie  Fane  came  at  his  call. 

"  Sit  down  just  opposite  me,  and  look  at  me. 
I  am  going  to  write.  The  editor  of  the  Cynosure 
begs  for  twenty  lines — no  more  ;  twenty  lines — 


THE  NECESSARY  SCAPEGOA  T.  4 1 

fifty  pounds  !  Now,  Nellie,  inspire  me,  and 
you  shall  have  a  new  hat  out  of  it.  No,  look 
at  me !  " 

Nellie  sat  down  and  gazed  at  him,  obedi- 
ently. 

"  Two  pound  ten  a  line  ;  not  bad  for  a  young 
'un,"  he  pursued.  "  They  say  Byron  wrote  on 
gin  and  water.  I  write  on  your  eyes,  Nellie — 
much  better." 

"  You're  not  writing  at  all — only  talking 
nonsense." 

"  I'm  just  beginning." 

"  Look  here.  Dale,  why  don't  you  keep  the 
Doctor "  began  Philip. 

"  Oh,  hang  the  Doctor!  I'd  just  got  an  idea. 
Look  at  me,  Nellie  !  " 

Philip  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Dr 
Roberts    dropped    out    of    discussion. 

The  twenty  lines  were  written,  though  they 
were  never  considered  one  of  his  masterpieces, 
then  Dale  rose  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Now  for  lunch,  and  then  I'm  going  to  return 
Mr.  Delane's  call." 

"  I  thought  we  were  to  ride,"  said  Nellie 
disappointedly. 

"  Well,  won't  you  come  ?  " 

"Don't  be  absurd  !  " 

"  Mightn't  she  come,  Phil  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Delane  has  not  called,  has  she  ?"  in- 
quired Philip,  as  though  for  information. 

"  Of  course  I  shan't  go.  Dale.  You  must  go 
alone." 

"  What  a  nuisance  !  I  shall  have  to  walk.  I 
daren't  trust  myself  to  that  animal  alone." 


42  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

After  luncheon  he  started,  walking  by  the 
same  way  by  which  Mr.  Delane  had  come. 

He  reached  the  lodge  of  the  Grange  ;  a  courte- 
sying  child  held  open  the  gate,  and  he  passed 
along  under  the  immemorial  elms,  returning  a 
cheery  good-day  to  the  gardeners,  who  paused 
in  their  work  to  touch  their  hats  with  friendly 
deference.  The  deference  was  wrong,  of  course, 
but  the  friendliness  pleased  him,  and  even  the 
deference  seemed  somehow  in  keeping  with  the 
elms  and  with  the  sturdy  old  red-brick  mansion, 
with  its  coat  of  arms  and  defiant  Norman  motto 
over  the  principal  door.  Littlehill  was  a 
pleasant  house,  but  it  had  none  of  the  ancient 
dignity  of  Dirkham,  and  Dale's  quick  brain  was 
suddenly  struck  with  a  new  understanding  of 
how  such  places  bred  the  men  they  did.  He 
had  had  a  fancy  for  a  stay  in  the  country  ;  it 
would  amuse  him,  he  thought,  to  study  country 
life  ;  that  was  the  meaning  of  his  coming  to 
Littlehill.  Well,  Dirkham  summed  up  one  side 
of  country  life,  and  he  would  be  glad  to  study  it. 

Mr.  Delane  was  not  at  home — he  had  gone 
to  Petty  Sessions  ;  and  Dale,  with  regret,  for  he 
wanted  to  see  the  inside  of  the  house,  left  his 
name — as  usual  he  had  forgotten  to  bring  a 
card — and  turned  away.  As  he  turned,  a  pony 
carriage  drew  up  and  a  girl  jumped  out.  Dale 
drew  back  to  let  her  pass,  raising  his  hat.  The 
servant  said  a  word  to  her,  and  when  he  had 
gone  some  ten  or  fifteen  yards,  he  lieard  his 
name  called. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Bannister,  do  come  in  !  I  expect 
papa  back  every  minute,  and  he  will  be  so  sorry 


THE  NEC  ESS. A  R  Y  SCA  PEGOA  T.  43 

to  miss  you.  Mamma  is  up  in  London  ;  but  I 
hope  you'll  come  in." 

Dale  had  no  idea  of  refusing  the  invitation 
given  so  cordially.  He  had  been  sorry  to  go 
away  before,  and  the  sight  of  Janet  Delane 
made  him  more  reluctant  still.  He  followed 
her  into  the  oak-paneled  hall,  hung  with 
pictures  of  dead  Delanes  and  furnished  with 
couches  and  easy-chairs. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  after  tea  was  brought,  "  and 
what  do  you  think  of  us?  " 

■'  I  have  not  seen  very  much  of  you  yet." 

"  As  far  as  you  have  gone  .''     And  be  candid." 

"You  are  very  restful." 

She  made  a  little  grimace. 

"  You  mean  very  slow  ?  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't  !  I  think  you  very  interest- 
ing." 

"  You  find  us  interesting,  but  slow.  Yes,  you 
meant  that,  Mr.  Bannister,  and  it's  not  kind." 

"  Have  your  revenge  by  telling  me  what  you 
think  of  me." 

"  Oh,  we  find  you  interesting,  too.  We're  all 
talking  about  you." 

"  And  slow.''  " 

"  No,  certainly  not  slow,"  she  said,  with  a 
smile  and  a  glance :  the  glance  should  be 
described,  if  it  were  describable,  but  it  was  not. 

Dale,  however,  understood  it,  for  he  replied, 
laughing  : 

"They've  been  prejudicing  you  against  me." 

"  I  don't  despair  of  you.  I  think  you  maybe 
reformed.  But  I'm  afraid  you're  very  bad  just 
now." 


44  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Why  do  you  think  tluit  ?  From  what  your 
father  said  ?  " 

"Partly.  Partly  also  because  Colonel  Smith 
and  Tora — do  you  know  them  ? — are  so  enthusi- 
astic about  you." 

"  Is  that  a  bad  sign  .''  " 

"  Terrible.  They  are  quite  revolutionary. 
So  are  you,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  in  private  life." 

"But  of  course,"  she  asked,  with  serious  eyes, 
"  you  believe  what  you  write.?  " 

"  Well,  I  do  ;  but  you  pay  writers  a  compli- 
ment by  saying  '  of  course.'  " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not !  Anything  is  better  than 
insincerity." 

"  Even  my  opinions  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Opinions  may  be  changed,  but  not 
natures,  you  know." 

She  was  still  looking  at  him  with  serious, 
inquiring  eyes.  The  eyes  were  very  fine  eyes. 
Perhaps  that  was  the  reason  why  Dale  thought 
the  last  remark  so  excellent.  He  said  nothing, 
and  she  went  on  : 

"  People  who  are  clever  and — and  great,  you 
know,  ought  to  be  so  careful  that  tliey  are  right, 
oughtn't  they?  " 

"  Oh,  a  rhymer  rhymes  as  tlie  fit  takes  him," 
answered  he,  with  affected  modesty. 

"  I  wouldn't  believe  that  of  you.  You  wouldn't 
misuse  your  powers  like  that." 

"  You  have  read  my  poetry  ?  " 

"  Some  of  it."  She  paused  and  added,  with 
a  little  blush  for  her  companion  :  "  There  was 
some  papa  would  not  let  me  read." 


THE  NECESSA R  V  SCA PEGOA  T.  45 

A  man  may  not  unreasonably  write  what 
a  young  girl's  father  may  very  reasonably  not 
like  her  to  read.  Nevertheless,  Dale  Bannister 
felt  rather  uncomfortable. 

"  Those  were  the  shocking  political  ones, 
I  suppose  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  ;  I  read  most  of  those.  These  were 
against  religion  and " 

"  Well  }  " 

"  Morality,  papa  said,"  she  answered,  with 
the  same  grave  look  of  inquiry. 

Dale  rose  and  held  out  his  hand,  saying 
petulantly  : 

"  Good-by,  Miss  Delane.  You  evidently 
don't  think  me  fit  to  enter  your  house." 

"  Oh,  now  I  have  made  you  angry.  I  have 
no  right  to  speak  about  it,  and,  of  course,  I 
know  nothing  about  it.     Only " 

"  Only  what  ?  " 

"  Some  things  are  right  and  some  are  wrong, 
aren't  they  ?  " 

"  Oh,  granted — if  we  could  only  agree  which 
were  which." 

"  As  to  some  we  have  been  told.  And  I  don't 
think  that  about  you  at  all — I  really  don't.  Do 
wait  till  papa  comes." 

Dale  sat  down  again.  He  had  had  his  lec- 
ture ;  experience  told  him  that  a  lecture  from 
such  lecturers  is  tolerably  often  followed  by 
a  petting,  and  the  pettings  were  worth  the  lec- 
tures. In  this  instance  he  was  disappointed. 
Janet  did  not  pet  him,  though  she  displayed 
much  friendliness,  and  he  took  his  leave  (for  the 
Squire  did  not  appear)  feeling  somewhat  put  out. 


46  A   CHANGE  OF  A//?. 

Approbation  and  applause  were  dear  to  this 
man,  who  seemed  to  spend  his  energies  in 
courting  blame  and  distrust  ;  whatever  people 
thought  of  his  writings,  he  wished  them  to  be 
fascinated  by  him.  He  was  not  sure  that  he 
had  fascinated  Miss  Delane. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  more  of  her,"  he  thought. 
"  She's  rather  an  odd  girl." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Xlttlebill  (Socs  Into  Society. 

R.  DELANE'S  late  return  from  his 
Hl&y/R  feS  P'-i^l'C  duties  was  attributable  simply 
(u^kJ0.^  to  Colonel  Smith's  obstinancy.  He 
and  the  Colonel  sat  together  on  the 
bench,  and  very  grievously  did  they  quarrel  over 
the  case  of  a  man  who  had  been  caught  in  the 
possession  of  the  body  of  a  fresh-killed  hare. 
They  differed  first  as  to  the  policy  of  the  law, 
secondly  as  to  its  application,  thirdly  as  to  its 
vindication  ;  and  when  the  Vicar  of  Den- 
borough,  who  was  a  county  justice  and  pres- 
ent with  them,  sided  with  the  Squire  on  all 
these  points,  the  Colonel  angrily  denounced  the 
reverend  gentleman  as  a  disgrace,  not  only  to 
the  judicial  bench,  but  even  to  his  own  cloth. 
All  this  took  time,  as  did  also  the  Colonel's 
cross-examination  of  the  constable  in  charge  of 
the  case,  and  it  was  evening  before  the  dispute 
was  ended,  and  a  fine  imposed.  The  Colonel 
paid  the  fine,  and  thus  everyone,  including  the 
law  and  the  prisoner,  was  in  the  end  satisfied. 

Mr.  Delane  and  the  Colonel,  widely  and 
fiercely  as  they  differed  on  every  subject  under 
the  sun,  were  ver}^  good  friends,  and  they  rode 
home   together  in   the   dusk   of  a   September 

47 


48  A   CIIA NGE  OF  A  iR. 

evening,  for  their  roads  lay  the  same  way  for 
some  distance.  Presently  they  fell  in  with  Sir 
Harry  Fulmer,  who  had  been  to  see  Dale  Ban- 
nister, and,  in  his  absence,  had  spent  the  after- 
noon with  Nellie  Fane  and  Philip  Hume. 

"  Hume's  quite  a  good  fellow,"  he  declared  ; 
"quiet,  you  know,  and  rather  sarcastic,  but 
quite  a  gentleman.  And  Miss  Fane — I  say, 
have  you  seen  her.  Colonel  ?  " 

"By  the  way,  who  is  Miss  Fane.?  "  asked  the 
Squire. 

"  Oh,  she  acts,  or  sings,  or  something. 
Awfully  jolly  girl,  and  uncommon  pretty. 
Don't  you  think  so.  Squire  }  " 

"  Yes,  I  did,  Harry.  But  why  is  she  staying 
there .'' " 

"Really,  Delane,"  said  the  Colonel,  "what 
possible  business  is  that  of  yours  ?  " 

"I've  called  on  Bannister,  and  he's  going  to 
return  my  call.  I  think  it's  a  good  deal  of 
business  of  mine." 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel ;  "for  sheer 
uncharitableness  and  the  thinking  of  all  evil, 
give  me  a  respectable  Christian  man  like  your- 
self, Delane." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,"  said  Sir  Harry  cheerfully. 
"  The  old  lady,  Mrs.  What's-her-name,  is 
there." 

"  I  hope  it  is,"  said  the  Squire.  "  Bannister 
has  himself  to  thank  for  any  suspicions  which 
may  be  aroused." 

"Suspicions?  Bosh!"  said  tiie  Colonel. 
"  Tliey  are  all  coming  to  dine  with  me  to- 
morrow.    I  met  Bannister  and  asked  him.     He 


LITTLEHILL  GOES  INTO  SOCIETY.  49 

said  he  had  friends,  and  I  told  him  to  bring 
the  lot.  Will  you  and  Mrs.  Delane  contie, 
Squire  ?  " 

"  My  wife's  away,  thanks." 

"  Then  bring  Janet." 

"Hum  !     I  think  I'll  wait." 

"  Oh,  as  you  please.     You'll  come,  Harry.'  " 

Sir  Harry  was  delighted  to  come. 

"Tora  was  most  anxious  to  know  them,"  the 
Colonel  continued,  "  and  I  hate  ceremonious 
ways.  There'll  be  nobody  else,  except  the 
Doctor  and  his  wife." 

"You  haven't  asked  Hedger  and  Johnstone, 
have  you?"  inquired  the  Squire.  "They're 
friends  of  Bannister's.  I  met  them  at  his 
house." 

"  I  haven't,  but  I  don't  know  why  I 
shouldn't." 

"  Still  you  won't,"  said  Sir  Harry,  with  a 
laugh. 

The  Colonel  knew  that  he  would  not,  and 
changed  the  subject. 

"  This  is  a  great  occasion,"  said  Philip  Hume 
at  afternoon  tea  next  day.  "  To-night  we  are 
to  be  received  into  county  society." 

"  Is  Colonel  Smith  '  county  society  '  .>  "  asked 
Nellie. 

"  Yes.  The  Mayor  told  me  so.  The  Colonel 
is  a  Radical,  and  a  bad  one  at  that,  but  the  poor 
man  comes  of  good  family  and  is  within  the 
toils." 

"  I  expect  he  really  likes  it,"  said  Nellie.  "  I 
should," 


50  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Are  you  nervous  ?  "  inquired  Philip. 

Nellie  laughed  and  colored. 

"  I  really  am  a  little.  I  hope  I  shall  behave 
properly.     Mother  is  in  a  dreadful  state." 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Hodge  ?  " 

"  Putting  some  new  lace  on  her  gown." 

"And  Dale.?" 

"  He's  writing.  Mr.  Hume,  has  he  told  you 
anything  about  his  visit  yesterday  ?  " 

"  Yes.     He  says  he  met  an  angel." 

"  Oh,  that  accounts  for  the  title." 

"  What  title  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  went  and  looked  over  his  shoulder, 
and  saw  he  was  beginning  some  verses,  headed, 
•  To  a  Pretty  Saint.'  I  always  look,  you  know, 
but  this  time  he  snatched  the  paper  away." 

'"To  a  Pretty  Saint '  }  Dear,  dear !  Per- 
haps he  meant  you,  Nellie." 

Miss  Fane  shook  her  head. 

"He  meant  Miss  Delane,  I'm  sure,"  she  said- 
dolefully.  "  I  hope  Miss  Smith  is  just  exactly 
a  county  young  lady — you  know  what  I  mean. 
I  want  to  see  one." 

"  Do  you  contemplate  remodeling  yourself  ?  " 

"I'm  sure  Dale  will  like  that  sort  of  girl." 

Philip  looked  at  her  sideways.  He  thought 
of  telling  her  that  "  county  young  ladies"  did 
not  proclaim  all  their  thoughts.  But  then  he 
reflected  that  he  would  not. 

The  Littlehill  party  arrived  at  Mount  Pleas- 
ant, the  Colonel's  residence,  in  the  nick  of  time  ; 
and  Mrs.  Hodge  sailed  in  to  dinner  on  her 
host's  arm  in  high  good  humor.  Dale,  as  the 
great   man   and    the   stranger,  escorted   Tora, 


LITTLEHILL  GOES  INTO  SOCIETY.  5 1 

Philip  Hume  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  Sir  Harry  fell 
to  Nellie's  lot. 

Mrs.  Hodge  was  an  amusing  companion. 
She  did  not  dally  at  the  outworks  of  acquaint- 
ance, but  closed  at  once  into  intimacy,  and 
before  half  an  hour  was  gone,  she  found  herself 
trving  hard  not  to  call  the  Colonel  "  my  dear," 
and  to  remember  to  employ  the  usual  prefixes 
to  the  names  of  the  company.  The  Colonel 
was  delighted ;  was  he  at  last  escaping  from 
the  stifling  prison  of  conventionality  and  breath- 
ing a  freer  air  } 

Unhappily,  just  in  proportion  as  good  cheer 
and  good  fellowship  put  Mrs.  Hodge  at  her 
ease,  and  made  her  more  and  more  to  the 
Colonel's  taste,  her  daughter's  smothered  un- 
easiness grew  more  intense.  Nellie  had  borne 
herself  with  an  impossible  dignity  and  distance 
of  manner  toward  Sir  Harry,  in  the  fear  lest 
Sir  Harry  should  find  her  wanting  in  the  char- 
acteristics of  good  society,  and  her  frigidity  was 
increased  by  her  careful  watch  on  her  mother's 
conduct.  Sir  Harry  was  disappointed.  As 
he  could  not  sit  by  Tora  Smith,  he  had  consoled 
himself  with  the  prospect  of  some  fun  with 
"little  Miss  Fane."  And  little  Miss  Fane  held 
him  at  arms'-length.  He  determined  to  try  to 
break  down  her  guard. 

"  How  did  you  manage  to  shock  the  Squire 
so  ?  "  he  asked, 

"  Was  he  shocked  ?     I  didn't  know." 

"  You  were  there,  weren't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Well,  I  suppose  it  was  Mr,  Ban- 
nister's poetry." 


52  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Why  should  that  shock  him  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Harry,  who  knew  very  welh  "  By  Jove,  I  wish 
I  could  write  some  hke  it  ! " 

Slie  turned  to  him  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Do  you  admire  Dale's  writings  ?  " 

"  Awfully,"  said  Sir  Harry.     "  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  /  do,  but  I  didn't  know  whctlier 
you  would.     Do  you  know  Miss  Delane  ?  " 

"  Yes,  very  well." 

"  Do  you  like  her?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  have  known  her  all  my  life,  and  I 
hke  her.     She  frightens  me  a  little,  you  know." 

"  Does  she  ?     How  ?  " 

"  She  expects  such  a  lot  of  a  fellow.  Have 
you  met  her  ?" 

"No.     D— Mr.  Bannister  has.    He  likes  her." 

"  I  expect  she  blew  him  up,  didn't  she  ?  " 

"Oh.  I  shouldn't  think  so.  Dale  wouldn't 
like  that." 

"  Depends  how  it's  done,"  observed  Sir 
Harry.     "  Don't  you  ever  blow  him  up  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  I'm  much  too — I  look  up  to 
him  too  much." 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  Colonel's  voice. 
He  was  saying,  with  much  energy  : 

"  Ability  we  don't  expect  in  a  Government 
office,  but  honesty  one  might  hope  for." 

"  Just  what  Hodge  used  to  say  of  old  Pratt," 
said  Mrs.  Hodge. 

"  1  beg  pardon  ?  "  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Pratt  was  his  manager,  you  know— my 
husband's." 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course." 

"  Nellie,  you  remember  your  father  throwing 


LITTLEHILL  GOES  INTO  SOCIETY.  53 

down  that  two  pound  ten  on  the  table,  and  say- 
ing, '  Well,  I'm '  " 

"  No,  mother,  I  don't.  Do  you  think  I  could 
learn  to  hunt,  Sir  Harry  ?  " 

"  Of  course  you  could,  in  no  time." 

"  Does  Miss  Delane  ?  " 

"  And  Pratt  said  that  if  Hodge  couldn't  play 
the  king  at  two  pound  ten  a  week, — though 
that's  hard  living,  my  dear, — I  beg  pardon — 
Colonel " 

The  Colonel  bowed  courteously.  Nellie  grew 
very  red. 

"  Why,  bantam-cocks  had  risen  since  his  day, 
and  that  was  all  about  it."  And  Mrs.  Hodge 
emptied  her  glass  and  beamed  pleasantly  on  the 
company. 

Suddenly  Dale  Bannister  began  to  laugh 
gently.  Tora  Smith  turned  an  inquiring  look 
in  his  direction. 

"  WMiat  is  it,  Mr.  Bannister  ?" 

"  I  saw  your  father's  butler  looking  at  my 
friend  Mrs.  Hodge." 

"  What  nonsense  !  Simmons  is  not  allowed 
to  look  at  anyone." 

"  Isn't  he  ?     Why  not  ?  " 

"  No  good  servant  does." 

Dale  smiled. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  Tora  continued ; 
"  but  surely  while  they're  actually  waiting,  Mr. 
Bannister,  we  can't  treat  them  quite  like  our- 
selves }    At  any  other  time,  of  course " 

"  You'd  take  a  walk  with  them  ?  " 

"  They'd  be  horribly  uncomfortable  if  I  did," 
she  answered,  laughing. 


54  A  CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

"  That's  the  worst  of  it,"  said  he. 

"  Do  you  think  us  great  shams  ?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  learn,  not  to  criticise." 

"  We  want  a  leader,"  said  Tora,  with  pretty 
earnestness. 

"  Haven't  you  one  ?  " 

"Sir  Harry  Fulmer  is  our  leader,  but  we're 
not  contented  with  him.  He's  a  very  mild 
Radical.     Won't  you  come  to  our  help  ?  " 

"  I  expect  I  should  be  too  extreme  the  other 
way," 

"  Oh,  I  love  people  who  are  extreme — in  my 
direction,  I  mean." 

"  Well,  then,  try  the  Doctor." 

"Mr.  Roberts?  Oh,  he's  hardly  prominent 
enough  ;  we  must  have  somebody  of  position. 
Now,  what  are  you  laughing  at,  Mr.  Bannister.'  " 

The  gentleman  to  whom  they  referred  sat 
looking  on  at  them  with  no  great  pleasure, 
though  they  found  one  another  entertaining 
enough  to  prevent  them  noticing  him.  Dale 
Bannister  said  that  his  new  friend  took  life 
seriously,  and  the  charge  was  too  true  for  the 
Doctor's  happiness.  Dale  Bannister  had  taken 
hold  of  his  imagination.  He  expected  Dale  to 
do  all  he  would  give  his  life  to  see  done,  but 
could  not  do  himself.  The  effect  of  Dale  was 
to  be  instantaneous,  enormous,  transforming 
Denborough  and  its  inhabitants.  He  regarded 
the  poet  much  as  a  man  might  look  upon  a 
benevolent  volcano,  did  such  a  thing  exist  in 
the  order  of  nature.  His  function  was,  in  the 
Doctor's  eyes,  to  pour  forth  the  burning  lava 
of  truth  and  justice,  wherewith  the  ignorance, 


LITTLEHILL  GOES  INTO  SOCIETY.  55 

prejudice,  and  cruelty  of  the  present  order 
should  be  consumed  and  smothered  ;  let  the 
flood  be  copious,  scorching,  and  unceasing ! 
The  Doctor  could  do  little  more  than  hail  the 
blessed  shower  and  declare  its  virtues ;  but 
that  he  was  ready  to  do  at  any  cost.  And  the 
volcano  would  not  act !  The  eruptions  were 
sadly  intermittent.  The  hero,  instead  of  going 
forth  to  war,  was  capering  nimbly  in  a  lady's 
chamber,  to  the  lascivious  pleasing  of  a  lute ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  was  talking  trifles  to  Tora 
Smith,  with  apparent  enjoyment,  forgetful  of 
his  mission,  ignoring  the  powers  of  darkness 
around.  No  light-spreading  saying,  no  sword- 
flash  had  come  from  him  all  the  evening.  He 
was  fiddling  while  Rome  was — waiting  for  the 
burning  it  needed  so  badly. 

Perhaps  it  was  a  woebegone  look  about  the 
Doctor  that  made  Philip  Hume  take  the  chair 
ne.xt  him  after  dinner,  while  Dale  was,  still  as 
if  in  play,  emitting  anarchist  sparks  for  the 
Colonel's  entertainment. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  asked  the  Doctor  in  low, 
half-angry  tones,  "  that  he  thinks  these  people 
are  any  good — that  they  are  sincere  or  thorough 
in  the  matter  ?     He's  wasting  his  time." 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear  fellow,  we  must  all 
dine,  whatever  our  opinions." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  we  must  dine,  while  the  world 
starves." 

"  The  bow  can't  be  always  stretched,"  said 
Philip,  with  a  slight  smile. 

"You  don't  think,  Hume,  do  you,  that  he's 
getting  any  less — less  in  earnest,  you  know  ?  " 


56  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Oh,  he  wrote  a  scorcher  this  very  morning." 

"  Did  he  ?  That's  good  news.  Where  is  it 
to  appear  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  He  didn't  write  it  on  com- 
mission." 

"  His  poems  have  such  magnificent  restless- 
ness, haven't  they  ?  I  can't  bear  to  see  him 
idle." 

"  Poor  Dale  !  You  must  give  him  some  holi- 
days.    He  likes  pleasure  like  the  rest  of  us." 

The  Doctor  sighed  impatiently,  and  Philip 
looking  at  him  anxiously,  laid  a  hand  on  his 
arm. 

"  Roberts,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  need  that 
you  should  be  ground  to  powder." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  hope  you  never  will.  Your  wife  doesn't 
look  very  strong.  Why  don't  you  give  her  a 
change?  " 

"  A  change  ?  How  am  I  to  afford  a  change  ? 
Besides,  who  wants  a  change.'*  What  change 
do  most  workers  get  ?  " 

"  Hang  most  workers  !  Your  wife  wants  a 
change." 

"  I  haven't  got  the  money,  anyhow." 

"  Then  there's  an  end  of  it." 

The  Colonel  rose,  and  they  made  for  the 
drawing  room. 

Philip  detained  his  companion  for  a  moment. 

"Well.^"  said  the  Doctor,  feeling  the  touch 
on  his  arm. 

"  For  God's  sake,  old  fellow,  go  slow,"  said 
Philip,  pressing  his  arm,  and  looking  at  him 
with  an  appealing  smile. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
*'  ^0  a  iprettg  Saint." 

HEN  Mrs.  Delane  came  back  from 
London,  she  was  met  with  a  question 
of  the  precise  kind  on  which  she  felt 
herself  to  be  no  mean  authority.  It 
was  a  problem  of  propriety,  of  etiquette,  and  of 
the  usages  of  society,  and  Mrs.  Delane  attacked 
it  with  a  due  sense  of  its  importance  and  with 
the  pleasure  of  an  expert.  It  arose  out  of  Dale 
Bannister's  call  at  the  Grange.  Dale  had  been 
accustomed,  when  a  lady  found  favor  in  his 
eyes,  to  inform  her  of  the  gratifying  news 
through  the  medium  of  a  set  of  verses,  more  or 
less  enthusiastic  and  rhapsodic  in  their  nature. 
The  impulse  to  follow  his  usual  practice  was 
strong  on  him  after  meeting  Janet  Delane,  and 
issued  in  the  composition  of  that  poem  called 
"To  a  Pretty  Saint,"  the  title  of  which  Nellie 
had  seen.  He  copied  it  out  fair,  and  was  about 
to  put  it  in  the  post  when  a  thought  suddenly 
struck  him.  Miss  Delane  was  not  quite  like 
most  of  his  acquaintances.  It  was  perhaps 
possible  that  she  might  think  his  action  prema- 
ture, or  even  impertinent,  and  that  she  might 
deem  it  incumbent  on  her  to  resent  being  called 
either  a  saint  or  pretty  by  a  friend  of  one  inter- 

S2 


58  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

view's  standing.  Dale  was  divided  between  his 
newborn  doubt  of  liis  own  instinct  of  what  was 
permissible  and  his  great  reluctance  to  doom 
his  work  to  suppression.  He  decided  to  con- 
sult Philip  Hume,  who  was,  as  he  knew,  more 
habituated  to  the  social  atmosphere  of  places 
like  Denshire. 

"  Eh  ?  what  }  "  said  Philip,  who  was  busily 
engaged  in  writing  a  newspaper  article. 
"Written  a  poem  to  a  girl?  All  right.  I'll 
listen  presently." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  listen.  I  want  your 
advice  as  to  whether  to  send  it  or  not." 

"  If  you've  wasted  your  time  writing  the 
thing, — by  the  way,  take  care  the  Doctor  doesn't 
hear  of  it, — you  may  as  well  send  it." 

"  The  question  is,  whether  she'll  be 
offended." 

"  I'm  glad  it  isn't  more  important,  because 
I'm  busy." 

"  Look  here  !  Stop  that  anonymous  stabber 
of  yours  and  listen.     It's  to  Miss  Delane." 

Philip  stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  particularly 
vicious  paragraph  of  the  "  stabber,"  and  looked 
up  with  amusement  on  his  face. 

"  It's  a  perfectly— you  know — suitable  poem," 
pursued  Dale.  "  The  only  question  is,  will  she 
think  it  a  liberty  ?  " 

"  Oh,  send  it.  They  like  getting  'em  ;  "  and 
Philip  took  up  his  pen  again. 

"  You  don't  know  the  sort  of  girl  she  is." 

"  Then  what  the  deuce  is  the  good  of  asking 
mc  ?     Ask  Nellie." 

"  No,  I  shan't,"  said  Dale  shortly. 


"  TO  A  PRETTY  SAlNTr  59 

Thus  thrown,  by  his  friend's  indifference,  on 
his  own  judgment,  Dale  made  up  his  mind  to 
send  the  verses, — he  could  not  deny  himself  the 
pleasure, — but,  half  alarmed  at  his  own  audac- 
ity, which  feeling  was  a  new  one  in  him,  he 
"  hedged  "  by  inclosing  with  them  a  letter  of 
an  apologetic  character.  Miss  Delane  was  not 
to  suppose  that  he  took  the  liberty  of  referring 
to  her  in  the  terms  of  his  title  :  the  little  copy 
of  verses  had  merely  been  suggested  by  a  re- 
mark she  made.  He  had  failed  to  find  an 
answer  on  the  spot.  Would  she  pardon  him 
for  giving  his  answer  now  in  this  indirect  way  ? 
— and  so  forth. 

The  verses,  with  their  accompanying  letter, 
were  received  by  Janet,  and  Janet  had  no  doubt 
of  what  she  did  feel  about  them,  but  some  con- 
siderable doubt  as  to  what  she  ought  to  feel ; 
so  she  carried  them  to  her  mother.  Mrs. 
Delane  put  on  her  pvice-nez  and  read  the 
documents  in  the  case. 

"  I'm  sure  he  didn't  mean  to  be— anything 
but  what's  nice,  mamma,"  said  Janet. 

"  I  dare  say  not,  my  dear.  The  question  is, 
whether  the  young  man  knows  his  manners. 
Let's  see." 

After  careful  perusal,  during  which  Janet 
watched  her  mother's  face  with  some  anxiety, 
Mrs.  Delane  delivered  judgment. 

"  There's  no  positive  harm  in  them,"  she  said, 
"and  I  don't  think  we  need  take  any  actual 
steps.  Still.  Janet,  he  is  evidently  to  be  treated 
with  discretion." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  mamma  ?  " 


60  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Well,  he  isn't  in  need  of  encouragement,  is 
he?     He's  not  backward  in  making  friends." 

"  I  suppose  not.     May  I  keep  them  ?  " 

"  Keep  them  ?  Do  you  want  to  keep 
them .'' " 

"  Not  particularly,  dear,"  answered  Janet. 
I — I  thought  he  meant  me  to." 

"  No  doubt.  Write  a  civil  note,  dear,  thank 
him  for  letting  you  see  them,  and  return  them 
inclosed." 

Janet  was  a  little  reluctant  to  part  with  her 
autograph  manuscript, — not  because  of  its  pe- 
cuniary value,  though  that  was  more  than  a 
trifle,  had  she  known,  but  because  such  things 
are  pleasant  possessions  to  show  to  envious 
friends, — but  she  did  as  she  was  told.  She  did 
not,  however,  feel  herself  bound  altogether  to 
smother  her  pride  or  to  make  a  secret  of  the 
tribute  she  had  received.  Tora  Smith  heard 
the  story  with  evident  amusement,  and,  think- 
ing that  others  would  share  her  appreciation  of 
it,  relieved  the  somewhat  uphill  course  of  Mrs. 
Hodge's  call  by  a  repetition  of  it :  whereby  it 
happened  that  Nellie  Fane  came  to  know,  not 
only  that  Dale  had  written  verses  to  Miss 
Delane  and  sent  them,  but  also  that  Miss 
Delane  had  returned  the  offering.  She  told 
Philip  the  latter  fact,  and  the  two  ventured  to 
rally  the  poet  on  the  occurrence.  Dale  took 
their  action  very  badly,  and  his  displeasure 
soon  reduced  Nellie  to  apologies.  Philip  was 
less  sensitive. 

"  D.  W.  T.,  by  Jove  !  "  he  remarked.  "  Quite 
like  old  times,  Dale  !  " 


''  TO  A  PRETTY  saint:'  6i 

Dale  muttered  something  about  "  infernal 
chatter." 

"  You  will  soon  be  in  a  position  to  publish  a 
volume  of '  Rejected  Addresses.'  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Dale.  "  It's  simply  that 
she  didn't  understand  I  meant  her  to  keep 
them." 

"  Oh,  that's  her  delicate  way  of  snubbing  you, 
my  boy." 

"  What  the  deuce  do  you  know  about  it,  Phil  } 
You  never  wrote  verses  in  your  life.  Don't  you 
agree  with  me,  Nellie  ?  " 

"  Miss  Smith  said  Miss  Delane  thought  she 
had  better  not  keep  them." 

"  I  knew  that  girl  was  a  gossip  directly  I  set 
eyes  on  her." 

"You're  naturally  hurt,  old  fellow,  but " 

"  Go  to  the  deuce  !  Look  here,  I'll  bet  you  a 
fiver  she  takes  them  back  and  keeps  them." 

"  Done ! "  said  Philip,  and  Dale  seized  his 
hat. 

"  Why  does  he  want  her  to  take  them  }  " 
asked  Nellie. 

"  Vanity,  my  dear,  vanity.  I  suppose  he's 
accustomed  to  having  his  verses  laid  up  in 
lavender.     Is  that  what  you  do  with  yours  .''  " 

"  He  never  wrote  me  any,"  answered  Nellie 
in  a  tone  of  superlative  indifference. 

It  being  only  two  o'clock,  Dale  felt  he  could 
not  yet  go  to  the  Grange.  He  made  a  detour 
by  the  town,  on  pretense  of  buying  stamps  ; 
and,  the  stars  fighting  with  him,  outside  the 
Mayor's  shop  he  saw  Janet  talking  to  the  Mayor 
himself. 


62  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Delane,  miss,"  said  the 
Mayor.  "  Mrs.  Hedger  is  doin'  nicely.  She 
had  a  bit  of  feverishness  about  her,  but  Dr. 
Spink's   treated   her   wonderful." 

"Dr.  Spink?  I  thought  you  went  to  Dr. 
Roberts  ?  " 

"  I  did,   miss,   but Well,  things   come 

round  to  me,  miss,  being  a  center  like." 

"  What  things?  " 

"Well,  you  may  not  have  heard,  miss,  of  the 

things  that Good-mornin',  Mr.  Bannister, 

sir,  good-mornin'.  A  fine  day.  Anything  in 
our  line,  sir  ?  " 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  Mayor,"  said  Dale. 
"  Ah,  Miss   Delane,  how   do   you   do  ? " 

His  coming  interrupted  Janet's  investigations 
into  the  affairs  of  the  Doctor,  and  she  took  her 
leave  of  the  Mayor,  Dale  assuming  permission 
to  walk  with  her.  He  ought  to  have  asked,  no 
doubt,  thought  Janet,  but  it  would  be  making 
too  much  of  it  to  tell  him  so. 

They  had  hardly  started  when  he  turned  to  her: 

"  Why  did  you  send  back  my  verses  ?  " 

"  I  could  hardly  venture  to  keep  them,  could 
I?" 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  On  so  slight  an  acquaintance  !  It  was  very 
kind  of  you  to  let  me  see  them  before  they  were 
published." 

"  They're  not  going  to  be  published." 

"  Oh,  you  must  publish  them.  They're  so 
very  pretty." 

"Didn't  you  think  I  meant  you  to  keep 
them  ?  " 


"  TO  A  PRETTY  SAINT."  63 

"  I  should  have  been  very  conceited  if  I  had, 
shouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  were  for  you — not  to  be  pub- 
lished. If  you  don't  like  them,  they'll  be  burned, 
that's  all." 

Janet  stole  a  glance  at  his  face ;  he  looked 
like  a  petulant  Apollo — so  she  thought. 

"  That  would  be  a  pity,"  she  said  gravely  ; 
"  but  I  don't  think  I  ought  to  keep  them." 

"Why  not.?" 

Socrates  is  reported  to  have  said  that  nothing 
is  reasonable  which  cannot  be  stated  in  a  rea- 
sonable form.  Miss  Janet  Delane  would  have 
dissented. 

"  Of  course  I  like  them  very  much.  But — 
well,  we  haven't  known  each  other  very  long, 
Mr.  Bannister." 

"  You  mean  it  was  impertinent  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  I  thought  your  letter  perfect — I 
did  really.     But  mamma  thought " 

"  Oh ! "  said  Dale,  with  brightening  face. 
"  You  would  have  kept  them  }  " 

"  That's  not  the  question,"  said  Janet,  smil- 
ing. It  was  pleasant  to  see  Apollo  looking 
less  petulant.  "  But  what  would  people  say  if 
they  heard  I  had  poems  of  Mr.  Dale  Bannis- 
ter's about  me  ?  I  should  be  thought  a  dan- 
gerous person." 

"  I'll  write  some  which  you  would  like  to 
have." 

"  I  am  sure  you  could,  if  you  only  would. 
Fancy,  if  you  wrote  really  noble  verses — worthy 
of  you ! " 

"  Well,  I  will,  if  it  will  please  you." 


64  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"Nonsense,  Mr.  Bannister!  There's  no 
question  of  pleasing  me :  it  doesn't  matter — 
well,  I  mean,  then,  the  great  thing  is  to  do 
justice  to  yourself." 

"  I  ought  to  have  some  encouragement  in 
well-doing,"    said    Dale   plaintively. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  smile,  and  he 
went  on  : 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  to  Littlehill  and  see  the 
house.     I've  improved  it  tremendously." 

"  Oh,  you  must  invite  mamma." 

"  Would  Mrs.  Delane  come  ?  " 

This  question  was  a  little  awkward,  for  Mrs. 
Delane,  after  cross-examining  Tora  Smith 
closely  as  to  Mrs.  Hodge  and  her  daughter, 
had  announced  that  she  would  not  go. 

"A  bachelor  doesn't  entertain  ladies,  does 
he?" 

"  I    should    like    to ;     and    there   are    some 

ladies "     A  sudden  thought  struck  him,  and 

he  stopped.  He  looked  so  pointedly  at  Janet 
that,  to  her  intense  annoyance,  she  felt  herself 
blushing.  She  made  the  grave  mistake  of 
changing  the  conversation  abruptly. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  Smiths  }  " 

"  Oh,  pretty  well." 

"  I  should  have  thought  you  would  have  got 
on  tremendously  well  together." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  like  people  to 
be  one  thing  or  the  other,  and  the  Smiths  are 
halfway  housers." 

"  You're  very  ungrateful." 

''Oh,  they  only  asked  us  as  a  demonstration," 
said  Dale,  who  had  some  acuteness. 


"  TO  A  PKETTV  SAINT."  65 

Janet  laughed,  but  her  companion  was 
moodily  prodding  the  ground  with  his  stick  as 
he  walked  along. 

They  reached  a  cottage  where  she  had  a 
visit  to  pay,  and  she  bade  him  good-by. 

"  Then  you  won't  have  the  verses  ?  " 

"  I  think  not." 

"Very  well,  then,  here  goes;"  and  he  took 
the  paper  out  of  his  pocket  and  tore  it  to  bits. 
The  fragments  fluttered  to  the  ground. 

"  How  foolish  !  "  she  said.  "  I  dare  say  they 
were  worth  a  lot  of  money — but,  then,  you  can 
write  them  out  again." 

"  Do  you  think  I  shall  }  "  he  asked,  grinding 
the  fragments  into  the  mud. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  will  do  nothing  wise,"  she 
said,  giving  him  her  hand.  Yet  the  extrava- 
gance rather  pleased  her. 

Until  Dale  reached  his  own  house  it  did  not 
strike  him  that  he  had  lost  his  bet.  Philip 
quickly  reminded  him,  and  laughed  mercilessly 
when  a  crumpled  five-pound  note  was  thrown 
at  his  head  by  his  angry  friend. 

"  I  tell  you  she  wanted  to  keep  them,"  said 
Dale  unjustifiably. 

"Then  why  didn't  she?  "  asked  Nellie. 

"  Mrs.  Delane  didn't  approve  of  it." 

"  I  expect  Mrs.  Delane  doesn't  approve  of 
you  at  all,"  remarked  Philip. 

"  No,  nor  of  my  friends  either,"  answered 
Dale,  flinging  himself  into  a  chair. 

"  Well,  my  dear."  said  Mrs.  Hodge,  who  sat 
by,  "  her  opinion  will  neither  make  us  nor  mar 
us." 


66  A   CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

"  How  have  we  had  the  misfortune  to  offend 
the  hidy?"  inquired  PhiHp.  "She  has  never 
seen  us." 

"  Here's  your  tea,  Dale,"  said  NelUe.  "  Are 
you  tired  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little.     Thanks,  Nellie." 

"Was  she  looking  nice.  Dale?" 

"  I  didn't  see  her." 

"  I  mean  Miss  Delane." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so.    I  didn't  look  much." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Bn  ITn&iscrcet  Disciple. 

UMMER  wore  away,  and  autumn 
came  in  brief,  calm  radiance,  and 
passed ;  winter  began  to  threaten. 
At  Denborough  one  quiet  day  fol- 
lowed another,  each  one  noticeable  for  little, 
but  in  the  aggregate  producing  some  not  unim- 
portant changes  at  Littlehill.  Dale  Bannister 
had  begun  to  work  hard  and  to  work  in  soli- 
tude ;  the  inspiration  of  Nellie's  eyes  seemed 
either  unnecessary  or  ineffectual.  Moreover, 
his  leisure  hours  were  now  largely  spent  in 
visiting  at  houses  in  the  neighborhood.  He 
did  not  neglect  his  guests,  but  whenever  their 
engagements  occupied  them,  instead  of  wander- 
ing about  alone  or  enjoying  the  humors  of  the 
High  Street,  as  he  had  been  prone  to  do  in  the 
early  days  of  his  sojourn,  he  would  go  over  to 
Mount  Pleasant,  or  to  the  Grange,  or  to  Sir 
Harry  Fulmer's,  and  he  was  becoming  learned 
in  countrjf  lore  and  less  scornful  of  country 
ways.  The  Doctor  was  a  rare  visitor  now,  and, 
when  he  came,  it  generally  fell  to  Philip  Hume's 
lot  to  entertain  him.  Philip  did  his  duty  loyally, 
but  it  was  dreary  work,  for  Roberts'  conversa- 
tion, at  their  meetings,  consisted,  in  the  main. 
67 


68  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

of  diatribes  against  Dale  Bannister.  He  would 
declare  that  Dale's  conduct,  in  maintaining 
friendly  relations  with  the  gentry  of  the  neigh- 
borhood, was  in  flagrant  contradiction  to  the 
views  he  had  proclaimed  in  his  writings.  Philip 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  said  that  some  men 
were  better  than  their  writings,  some  worse, 
but  no  man  the  same  as  his  writings  ;  the  prose 
must  ever  be  allowed  for :  and  at  this  the 
angry  man  often  turned  his  back  on  the  house 
with  an  imprecation  on  half-heartcdness.  For 
the  rest,  Philip's  hands  were  not  very  full,  and 
he  and  Nellie  Fane  found  time  for  long  expedi- 
tions together,  which  would  have  been  more 
cheerful  had  it  not  been  for  Nellie's  scrupulous 
determination  to  ignore  the  absence  of  the  third 
member  of  the  old  trio.  One  day  Philip's  idle 
steps  led  him  through  the  town  on  the  search 
for  matter  of  amusement.  He  was  caught  in  a 
shower,  and  took  refuge  in  the  Mayor's  shop, 
knowing  that  his  Worship  always  had  time  for 
a  gossip.  He  was  not  disappointed.  The 
Mayor  entertained  him  with  a  graphic  account 
of  the  last  assault  on  Mr.  Delane's  position  as 
member  for  the  Denborough  division,  and  of 
his  own  recent  re-election  to  his  high  office. 
Philip  congratulated  him  on  the  latter  event,  and 
asked  in  curiosity  : 

"  And  what  are  your  politics,  Mr.  Mayor  ?  " 
"  I  hold  as  a  man  in  my  position  should  have 
no  politics,  not  party  politics,  Mr.  Hume,  sir." 
"  Well,  there's  something  to  be  said  for  that." 
"After  all,  we  know  what  they  are,  sir.     One 
out  and  the  other  in — that's  what  they  are,  sir." 


A  JV  INDISCREE  T  DISCI  PL  E.  69 

"  But  you  said  Mrs.  Hedger  canvassed  for 
the  Squire." 

"So  she  did,  sir.  Now,  my  daughter  is  on 
the  Liberal  side;  she  and  Miss  Smith  used  to 
go  a-drivin'  round  together." 

"  A  sad  division  of  opinion,  Mr.  Mayor." 

"  Well,  we  can  differ  without  disagreein', 
sir.  Besides,"  he  added,  with  something  like  a 
wink,  "  customers  differ  too." 

"  Most  true." 

"  Business  is  business,  sir,  especially  with  a 
growin'  fam'ly.  I  always  think  of  my  fam'ly, 
Mr.  Hume,  and  how  I  should  leave  'em  if  I  was 
took — taken." 

"  A  man's  first  duty,  Mr.  Mayor." 

"  You  wouldn't  catch  me  goin'  on  like  this 
young  Roberts." 

"  Why,  what's  he  been  up  to  now  ?  "  asked 
Philip  uneasily. 

"  You  aint  seen  the  Standard,  sir .''  "  The 
Mayor,  of  course,  meant  the  East  Denshire 
StaJidard,  not  the  London  paper  of  the  same 
name. 

"  No." 

"  Well,  last  week  they  printed  the  Vicar's 
sermon  on  '  The  Work  of  Christianity  in  the 
World.'  A  fine  sermon  it  was,  sir.  I  heard  it, 
being  a  Church  of  England  man.  Mrs.  Hedger 
goes  to  Chapel." 

"  '  Customers  differ  too,'  "  thought  Philip, 
smiling. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  sayin',  Jones  of  the  Standard 
got  the  Vicar  to  give  it  'im,  and  it  came  out, 
with  a  leadin'  article  of  Jones'  crackin'  it  up." 


70  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"But  how  does  the  Doctor " 

"  This  week,  sir,"  continued  the  Mayor,  shak- 
ing an  impressive  forefinger,  "  in  the  Chronicle 
— that's  the  Liberal  paper,  sir — there's  a  letter 
from  the  Doctor — two  columns — just  abusin' 
the  Church  and  the  parsons,  and  the  'ole — 
whole  thing,  fit  to — well,  I  never  did  !  " 

"  Hum  !     Rather  rash,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Rash,  Mr.  Hume,  sir  ?  It's  madness,  that's 
what  it  is,  sir.  He  talks  about  '  pestilent 
priests,'  and  I  don't  know  what  all,  sir,  and 
ends  with  quotin'  thirty  or  forty  lines  from  a 
poem  called,  I  think,  '  The  Arch  Apostates  ' 
— would  that  be  it,  sir? — by  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  No  !  does  he,  by  Jove  .''  "  said  Philip,  slap- 
ping his  thigh. 

"  And  the  po'try,  sir,  is  worse  than  the 
Doctor's  own  stuff,  sir,  beggin'  your  pardon  as 
a  friend  of  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  I  know  the  lines.  They're  some  of  the 
hottest  he's  ever  done." 

"  Mr.  Bannister,  of  course,  can  afford  it,  sir, — 
his  opinions  are  what  he  pleases, — but  the 
Doctor,  sir  !  " 

"  So  the  fat's  in  the  fire  }  " 

"  Just  the  very  worst  time  it  could  ha'  come 
out,  sir.  The  Guardians  over  at  Dirkham  meet 
to-morrow  to  elect  their  medical  officer.  I'm 
afraid  as  they  won't  re-elect  Dr.  Roberts,  sir, 
and  there  was  more  than  one  down  at  the 
Delane  Arms  sayin'  they'd  had  the  last  to  do 
with  him." 

Philip  parted  from  his  informant  in  much 
concern  for  Roberts,  and  in  no  small  amuse- 


A N  INDISCREE T  DISCI FL E.  ?! 

ment  at  the  public  placarding  of  "  The  Arch 
Apostates."  "  Surtoitt,  point  de  zele,"  he 
could  imagine  Dale  saying  to  his  infatuated 
disciple. 

On  returning  home,  however,  he  found  the 
poet  saying  much  harder  things  of,  if  not  to, 
Mr.  Roberts.  Dale  had  been  calling  at  the 
Smiths'.  The  Colonel,  while  shaking  his  head 
over  Roberts'  impudence,  had  applauded  his 
opinions,  and  was,  above  all,  enchanted  with 
the  extract  from  Dale's  poem,  which  he  had 
never  hitherto  read.  His  pleasure  was,  as  he 
told  Dale,  greatly  increased  by  finding  that  the 
letter  and  the  quotation  had  fallen  like  a  bomb- 
shell on  the  Grange  household. 

"  The  Squire  was  furious.  Mrs.  Delane  said 
she  had  no  idea  you  had  done  anything  so  bad 
as  that ;  and  little  Janet  sat  and  looked  as  if 
someone  had  knocked  down  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  It  was  splendid  !  Gad,  sir,  you've 
waked  'em  up." 

These  congratulations  had  the  effect  of  reduc- 
ing the  poet  almost  to  a  frenzy.  "  What  busi- 
ness," he  demanded,  "  has  the  fellow  to  quote 
me  in  support  of  his  balderdash  without  my 
leave.'  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  your  works  are  the  posses- 
sion of  the  nation,"  said  Philip,  smiling,  as  he 
lit  a  cigar. 

"  It's  an  infernal  liberty  !  "  fumed  Dale. 

"  You  light  the  fire,  and  blame  it  for  blazing," 
said  Philip. 

"  One  doesn't  want  to  shove  one's  views  down 
people's  throats." 


72  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Doesn't  one  ?     One  used  to." 

"  I  sliall  write  and  disclaim  any  responsibil- 
ity." 

"  For  the  poem  ?  " 

"  For  its  publication,  of  course." 

"  That  won't  do  you  much  good." 

The  Mayor's  forecast,  based  on  a  lifelong 
observation  of  his  neighbors,  proved  only  too 
correct.  Dr.  Spink  entered  the  lists  against 
Roberts,  and  was  elected  by  every  vote  save  one. 
Sir  Harry  Fulmer,  in  blind  and  devoted  obedi- 
ence to  Tora  Smith,  voted  for  Roberts  ;  the 
rest,  headed  by  the  Squire,  installed  his  rival  in 
his  place  ;  and  the  Squire,  having  sternly  done 
his  duty,  sat  down  and  wrote  a  long  and  friendly 
letter  of  remonstrance  and  explanation  to  his 
erring  friend. 

As  misfortune  followed  misfortune,  the 
Doctor  set  his  teeth,  and  dared  fate  to  do  her 
worst.  He  waited  a  few  days,  hoping  to  be 
comforted  by  a  word  of  approval  from  his 
master  ;  none  came.  At  last  he  determined  to 
seek  out  Dale  Bannister,  and  was  al)out  to 
start  when  his  wife  came  in  and  gave  him  the 
new  issue  of  the  Chronicle.  Ethel  Roberts  was 
pale  and  weary-looking,  and  she  glanced  anxi- 
ously at  her  husband. 

"  I  am  going  up  to  Littlehill,"  he  said. 
"  Have  you  done  your  round,  dear  ?  " 
"  My    round     doesn't   take    long   nowadays, 
Maggs   will   give   me   fifteen    pounds    for   the 
pony  :  you  know  we  don't  want  him  now." 
"  No,  Jim,  and  we  do  want  fifteen  pounds." 
"  What's  that  }  " 


AN  INDISCREET  DISCIPLE.  73 

"  The  Chronicle,  dear.  There's  —  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  Is  there  'f  Good  !  Let's  see  what  Bannis- 
ter has  to  say  to  these  bigoted  idiots." 

He  opened  the  paper,  and  in  the  middle  of 
the  front  page  read  : 

A    DISCLAIMER    FROM    MR.    BANNISTER. 

Sir  :  1  desire  to  state  that  the  use  made  by  Mr. 
James  Roberts  of  my  poem  in  your  last  issue  was  with- 
out my  authority  or  approbation.  The  poem  was 
written  some  years  ag;o,  and  must  not  be  assumed  to 
represent  my  present  view  on  the  subject  of  which  it 
treats. 

I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

Dale  Bannister. 

The  Doctor  stared  at  the  letter. 

'*  Bannister — Dale  Bannister  wrote  that !  " 
and  he  flung  the  paper  angrily  on  the  floor. 
"  Give  me  my  hat." 

"  You're  not  going " 

"  Yes,  I  am,  Ethel.  I'm  going  to  find  out 
what  this  means." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  wait  till  you're  less " 

"  Less  what,  Ethel  ?     What  do  you  mean  }  " 

"Till  the  rain  stops,  Jim,  dear;  and  it's  just 
baby's  time  for  coming  down." 

"Hang — no,  I  beg  your  pardon,  Ethel.  I'm 
very  sorry,  but  I  must  see  the  end  of  this." 

He  rushed  out,  and  the  baby  found  a  dull, 
preoccupied,  almost  tearful,  very  unamusing 
mother  to  play  with  that  day. 

The  Doctor  marched  into  Dale's  room  with 
a  stern  look  on  his  face. 


74  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"Well,  Roberts,  how  are  you  ?  "  asked  Dale, 
not  graciously. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Bannister  ?  " 

"  It  means,  my  dear  fellow,  that  you  took  my 
name  in  vain,  and  I  had  to  say  so." 

"  I'm  not  thinking  of  myself,  though  it  would 
have  been  more  friendly  to  write  to  me  first." 

"  Well,  I  was  riled,  and  didn't  think  of  that." 

"  But  do  you  mean  to  deny  your  own  words  ?  " 

"  Really,  Roberts,  you  seem  to  forget  tiiat  I 
don't  enjoy  setting  the  place  by  the  ears, 
although  you  seem  to." 

"  You  wrote  that  poem  7  " 

"  Of  course  I  wrote  the  damned  thing,"  said 
Dale  peevishly. 

"  And  now — Bannister,  you're  not  going  to — 
to  throw  us  over.'*  " 

"Nonsense!  I  like  to  publish  my  views  at 
my  own  time  and  place,  that's  all." 

"  A  man  like  you  belongs  to  his  followers  as 
much  as  to  himself." 

"  More,  it  seems." 

The  Doctor  looked  at  him  almost  scornfully. 
Dale  did  not  like  scorn  from  anyone. 

"  I  was  particularly  anxious,"  he  began 
apologetically,  "  not  to  get  into  a  shindy  here. 
I  wanted  to  drop  politics  and  so  on,  and  be 
friendly " 

"  Do  you  know  what  you're  saying,  or  the 
meanness  of  it  ?" 

"  Meanness  .-'     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  know  very  well.  All  I  want  to  know 
is  if  you  wrote  this  thing  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  wrote  it." 


A  N  INDISCREE  T  DISCIPLE.  7  5 

"And  you  stand  to  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  think  you  ought  to  have  asked  me 
before  you  did  it." 

"The  Squire  is  shocked,  eh.'*"  asked  the 
Doctor,  with  a  sneer. 

"  The  Squire's  views  are  nothing  to  me," 
answered  Dale,  flushing  very  red. 

The  Doctor  laughed  bitterly. 

"  Come,  come,  old  fellow,"  said  Dale,  "  don't 
let  us  quarrel." 

"Quarrel.?  Well,  we  won't.  Only  look  here, 
Bannister." 

"  Well }  " 

"  If  you  throw  us  over  now,  you'll  be " 

"  There,  don't  abuse  me  any  more." 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  going  to  abuse  you.  If  you 
leave  us, — you,  the  leader  we  trusted, — where 
are  we,  where  are  we  ?  " 

"  Give  me  another  chance,"  said  Dale,  hold- 
ing out  his  hand. 

"  You  won't  withdraw  this  ?  " 

"  How  the  deuce  can  I  now  .''  " 

The  Doctor  shook  his  hand,  saying: 

"  Don't  betray  us,  don't  betray  us  ;  "  and  thus 
the  very  uncomfortable  interview  came  to  a 
desired  end. 

That  night  at  dinner  Dale  was  cross  and  in 
low  spirits.  His  friends,  perceiving  it,  forbore 
to  express  their  views  as  to  his  last  public  utter- 
ance, and  the  repast  dragged  its  weary  length 
along  amid  intermittent  conversation. 

When  the  dessert  was  on  the  table,  a  note 
was  brought  for  Dale.  It  was  from  the 
Squire. 


76  A   CHA  NGE  OF  A IR. 

Dear  Bannister  :  I  was  very  glad  to  see  your 
letter  in  the  Chronicle.  Mrs.  Delane  joins  me  in  hoping 
you  will  dine  with  us  to-morrow  en  /amille.  Excuse 
short  notice.  The  man  waits  for  an  answer — dont 
write  one. 

Yours  truly, 

George  Delane. 

"  Say  I'll  come  with  great  pleasure,"  said 
Dale,  his  face  growing  brighter. 

"  Where  will  he  go  with  great  pleasure  ?  " 
asked  Philip  of  Nellie  Fane. 

"  Where  is  it,  Dale  .'*  " 

*'  Oh,  only  to  the  Grange,  to  dinner  to-mor- 
row. I  think  I  had  better  write  a  note,  though — 
don't  you  think  so,  Phil.?  More— more  atten- 
tive, you  know." 

"  Write,  my  son,"  answered  Philip,  and,  as 
Dale  left  the  room,  he  looked  round  with  a 
smile  and  exclaimed,  "  One  !  " 

"  One  what,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Hodge. 

"  Piece  of  silver,  ma'am,"  replied  Philip. 

"  You're  sneering  again,"  said  Nellie  in  a 
warning  tone.  "  Why  shouldn't  he  like  to  dine 
at  the  Grange  .'*"  and  she  looked  marvelously 
reasonable  and  indifferent. 

"  I  was  speaking  with  the  voice  of  Doctor 
Roberts,  Nellie,  tiiat's  all.  For  my  own  part,  I 
think  a  dinner  is  one  of  those  things  one  may 
accept  even  from  the  enemy." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Dale's  Own  ©pinion. 

F  ever  our  own  fortune  would  allow 
us  to  be  perfectly  happy,  the  consum- 
mation is  prevented  and  spoiled  by 
the  obstinately  intruding  unhappi- 
ness  of  others.  The  reverend  person  who  was 
of  opinion  that  the  bliss  of  the  blessed  would 
be  increased  and,  so  to  say,  vivified  by  the 
sight  of  the  tortures  of  the  damned,  finds 
few  supporters  nowadays,  perhaps  because 
our  tenderer  feelings  shrink  from  such  a  ruth- 
less application  of  the  doctrine  that  only  by 
contemplating  the  worse  can  we  enjoy  the 
better  ;  perhaps  also  because  we  are  not  so  sure 
as  he  was  that  we  should  not  be  the  onlooked 
rather  than  the  onlookers  if  ever  his  picture 
came  to  be  realized.  So  sensitive  are  we  to  the 
ills  that  others  suffer  that  at  times  we  feel  al- 
most a  grudge  against  them  for  their  persistence 
— however  unwilling  it  be — in  marring  our 
perfect  contentment  ;  surely  they  could  let  us 
forget  them  for  once  in  a  way. 

This  last  was  Dale  Bannister's  frame  of 
mind  as  he  lay,  idly  and  yet  not  peacefully,  on 
his  sofa  next  morning.  This  Doctor,  with  his 
unflinching  log^ic  and  unrestrained  zeal,  was  a 


»78  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

nuisance.  His  devotion  had  not  been  sought, 
and  certainly,  if  it  entailed  scenes  Hke  yester- 
day's, was  not  desired.  Dale  never  asked  him 
to  ruin  his  practice,  as  Philip  Hume  said  he  was 
doing,  in  order  to  uphold  Dale's  principles  ; 
Dale  did  not  want  a  starving  family  to  his  ac- 
count, whose  hungry  looks  should  press  him 
to  a  close  questioning  of  his  conscience.  Any 
man  with  an  ounce  of  common  sense  would 
understand  that  there  was  a  time  for  everything, 
and  a  place.  It  was  one  thing  to  i)ublish  your 
views  in  a  book,  addressed  to  the  world  of 
thinkers  and  intelligent  readers  ;  it  was  quite 
another  to  brandish  them  in  the  face  of  your 
neighbors,  and  explode  them,  like  shells,  in  the 
innocent  streets  of  Denborough.  And  yet,  be- 
cause he  recognized  this  obvious  distinction, 
because  he  had  some  sense  of  what  was  suitable 
and  reasonable,  and  because  he  refused  to  make 
enemies  of  people  simply  because  they  were 
well  off,  the  Doctor  stormed  at  him  as  if  he 
were  a  traitor  and  a  snob.  And  Philip  Hume 
had  taken  to  smiling  in  an  aggravating  way 
when    the   Grange   was    mentioned  ;  and  even 

Nellie But   Dale,   alert  as  he  was  in    his 

present  mood  to  discover  matter  of  complaint, 
found  none  against  Nellie,  unless  it  might  be 
some  falling  ofif  in  her  old  cheerfulness  and 
buoyancy. 

Dale  lit  his  pipe  and  set  himself  to  consider 
with  impartiality  whether  Roberts  had  in  fact 
any  grievance  against  him.  He  wanted  to 
satisfy  himself  that  there  was  no  basis  for  the 
Doctor's  indignation  ;  his  selfrcsteem  demanded 


DALE'S  OWN  O  PIN  I  OX.  79 

that  the  accusation  should  be  disproved  But 
really  it  was  too  plain.  What  had  he  done? 
Refused  to  acquiesce  in  being  made  a  fool  of, 
refused  to  meet  civility  with  incivility,  to  play 
the  churl,  to  shut  his  eyes  to  intelligence  and 
culture  and  attractiveness  because  they  hap- 
pened to  be  found  among  people  who  did  not 
think  as  he  did  or  as  Roberts  was  pleased  to 
think.  He  knew  what  those  sneers  meant,  but 
he  would  go  his  own  way.  Things  had  come 
to  a  pretty  pass  if  a  man  might  not  be  civil  and 
seek  to  avoid  wholly  unnecessary  causes  of 
offense  without  being  treated  as  a  renegade  to 
all  his  convictions.  That  was  not  his  idea  of 
breadth  of  mind  or  toleration,  or  of  good  feel- 
ing either.  It  was  simple  bigotry,  as  narrow  as 
— aye,  narrower  than — anything  he  at  least  had 
found  on  the  other  side. 

Dale  disposed  of  this  question,  but  he  still 
lay  on  the  sofa  and  thought.  It  had  been  a 
gain  to  him,  he  said  to  himself,  to  see  this  new 
side  of  life ;  the  expedition  to  Littlehill  was  well 
justified.  It  is  good  for  a  man  to  take  a  flag  of 
truce  and  go  talk  with  the  enemy  in  the  gate. 
He  may  not  change  his  own  views, — Dale  was 
conscious  of  no  change  in  his, — but  he  comes  to 
see  how  other  people  may  hold  different  ones, 
and  the  reason,  or  anyhow  the  naturalness, 
of  theirs.  A  man  of  Roberts'  fierce  Puritan 
temper  could  not  feel  nor  appreciate  what 
appealed  to  him  so  strongly  in  such  a  life  as 
they  lived,  for  instance,  at  the  Grange.  It  had 
a  beauty  so  its  own,  that  unquestioned  superi- 
ority, not  grasped  as  a  prize  or  valued  as  an 


80  A   CIIAXCE  OF  AIR.  . 

opportunity,  but  gravely  accepted  as  the  parent 
of  duties — the  unbroken  family  life,  grasping 
through  many  hands  the  torch  undimmed  from 
reverend  antiquity — the  very  house,  which 
seemed  to  enshrine  honorable  traditions,  at 
which  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  sneer. 
The  sweetness  of  it  all  broke  back  bafifled  from 
the  wall  of  the  Doctor's  stern  conviction  and 
iron  determination.  Yet  how  sweet  it  all  was! 
And  these  people  welcomed  into  their  circle  any 
man  who  had  a  claim  to  welcome,  freely,  un- 
grudgingly, cordially.  All  they  asked  was  a 
little  gentleness  to  their— he  supposed  they 
were  prejudices,  a  little  deference  to  their  pre- 
possessions, a  little  smoothing  off  of  the  rougher 
edges  of  difference.  It  was  not  much  to  ask. 
Was  he  churlishly  to  deny  the  small  concession, 
to  refuse  to  meet  them  any  part  of  the  way,  to 
intrench  himself  in  the  dogmatic  intolerance  of 
his  most  vehement  utterances,  to  shut  his  mind 
off  from  this  new  source  of  inspiration  }  That 
was  what  Roberts  wanted.  Well,  then — Rob- 
erts be  hanged  ! 

The  course  of  these  reflections  produced  in 
Dale  a  return  to  his  usual  equanimity.  It  was 
plainly  impossible  to  please  everybody.  He 
must  act  as  seemed  right  to  himself,  neglecting 
the  frowns  of  unreasonal)le  grumblers.  No 
doubt  Roberts  was  devoted  to  him,  and  Arthur 
Angell  too.  Yet  Roberts  abused  him,  and 
Arthur  bothered  him  with  imploring  letters, 
which  warned  him  against  the  subtle  tempta- 
tions of  his  new  life.  It  was  a  curious  sort  of 
devotion  which  showed  itself  mainly  in  criticism 


DALE'S  OU^N  OPINIO^:  8l 

and  disapproval  ;  it  was  very  flattering  of  these 
good  friends  to  set  him  on  a  pedestal  and 
require  him  to  live  up  to  the  position  ;  only, 
unfortunately,  the  pedestal  was  of  their  choos- 
ing, not  his.  All  he  asked  was  to  be  allowed 
to  live  a  quiet  life  and  work  out  his  own  ideas 
in  his  own  way.     If  they  could  not  put  up  with 

that,  why Dale  refilled  his  pipe  and  opened 

a  story  by  Maupassant. 

It  may  be  asserted  that  every  man  is  the 
victim  of  a  particular  sort  of  follies,  the  follies 
engendered  by  his  particular  sort  of  surround- 
ings ;  they  make  a  fool's  circle  within  which  each 
of  us  has  a  foot  planted ;  for  the  rest,  we  may 
be,  and  no  doubt  generally  are,  very  sensible 
people.  If  we  set  aside  Squire  Delane's  special 
and  indigenous  illusions,  he  was  very  far  indeed 
from  a  fool,  and  after  dinner  that  evening  he 
treated  his  distinguished  guest  with  no  small 
tact.  The  young  man  was  beyond  question  a 
force  ;  was  it  outside  of  ingenuity  to  turn  him 
in  a  better  direction  ? 

"  Everybody  approves  of  your  letter,"  he  said. 
"  Roberts  had  no  business  to  drag  your  name 
in." 

"Of  course  one  is  exposed  to  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  It's  a  penalty  of  greatness.  But  the  case 
is  peculiar  when  you're  actually  living  in  the 
place." 

"  That's  exactly  what  I  feel.  It's  making  me 
a  party  in  a  local  quarrel." 

"  That's  what  he  wanted  to  do  ;  he  wanted 
to  fight  under  your  shield." 


b2  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  I  dirfn't  come  here  to  fight  at  all." 

"  I  should  think  not  ;  and  you  haven't  found 
us  thirsting  for  battle,  have  you?  " 

"  I  have  found  a  kinder  welcome  than  I  had 
any  right  to  expect." 

"  My  dear  fellow  !  Much  as  we  differ,  we're 
all  proud  of  counting  you  as  a  Denshire  man. 
And  I  don't  suppose  we  shall  quarrel  much 
about  Denshire  affairs.  Oh,  I  know  you  think 
the  whole  system  of  country  life  an  iniquity. 
I  don't  go  so  deep  myself.  I  say,  there  it  is. 
Perhaps  it  might  be  changed,  but,  pending 
that,  sensible  men  can  work  together  to  make 
the  best  of  it.  At  any  rate,  they  can  avoid 
treading  on  one  another's  corns." 

"  I  want  to  avoid  everybody's  corns,  if  they'll 
avoid  mine." 

"  Well,  we'll  try.  I  dare  say  we  shall  pull 
together.  At  any  rate,  it's  very  pleasant  dining 
together.  Shall  we  go  upstairs  and  ask  Janet 
for  a  song  ?  " 

Mrs.  Delane  had  evidently  caught  her  cue 
from  her  husband,  and  she  treated  Dale  not  as 
a  sinner  who  repenteth, — a  mode  of  reception 
which,  after  all,  requires  great  tact  to  make  it 
acceptable, — but  as  one  who  had  never  been 
a  sinner  at  all.  She  asked  Dale  if  he  had  been 
overwhelmed  by  callers.  He  replied  that  he 
had  not  suffered  much  in  that  way. 

"  I  knew  it,"  she  said.  "  You  have  frightened 
them,  Mr.  Bannister ;  they  think  you  came  in 
search  of  studious  retirement." 

"Oh,  I  hate  both  study  and  retirement,  Mrs. 
Delane." 


DALE'S  OIVN  OPINION.  83 

"  Well,  I  shall  tell  people  that — may  I  ? 
Now,  when  I  was  at  the  Cransfords'  yesterday, 
— he's  our  Lord  Lieutenant,  you  know, — they 
were  wondering  whether  they  might  call." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  anyone." 

"  From  the  Mayor  upward — or,  I  suppose, 
Hedger  would  think  I  ought  to  say  downward. 
We  heard  what  fun  you  made  of  the  poor  man." 

"  Mr.  Bannister  will  be  more  respectful  to 
the  Lord  Lieutenant,"  said  Janet,  smiling. 

"  I  suppose  I  disapprove  of  Lord  Lieuten- 
ants," remarked  Dale,  with  a  laugh. 

"  You'll  like  Lady  Cransford  very  much,  and 
she'll  like  you.  She  gives  so  many  balls  that 
a  bachelor  household  is  a  godsend." 

"  Bannister  hardly  depends  on  that  for  a  wel- 
come, my  dear,"  said  the  Squire  from  the 
hearthrug. 

"  Now  I  declare,  meeting  him  just  as  a  friend 
like  this,  I'm  always  forgetting  that  he's  a 
famous  man." 

"  Please  go  on,  Mrs.  Delane.  It's  a  capital 
exchange.  But  when  are  you  going  to  give  me 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  at  Littlehill  ?  " 

Mrs.  Delane  paused  for  just  a  second. 

"  I  should  like  to  visit  your  hermit's  cell.  But 
I'm  so  busy  just  now,  and  I  dare  say  you  are. 
When  your  guests  forsake  you,  perhaps  we  will 
come  and  relieve  your  solitude.  Janet,  will  you 
give  us  some  music  ?  " 

Dale  followed  Janet  to  the  piano,  with  a  little 
frown  on  his  brow.     Why  wouldn't  she  come 

now  ?     Was  it Janet's  voice  dispersed  the 

frown  and  the  reflection. 


84  A   CHANGE  OF  A/R. 

She  sang  a  couple  of  songs,  choosing  them 
out  of  a  book.  As  she  turned  over  tlie  leaves, 
Dale  saw  that  some  of  the  airs  were  set  to 
words  of  his  own  writing.  When  Janet  came 
to  one  of  these,  she  turned  the  leaf  hastily. 
The  Squire  had  gone  out,  and  Mrs.  Delane, 
with  the  privilege  of  near  relationship,  was 
absorbed  in  a  novel. 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  great  favor.?  "  he  said. 

"  What,  Mr.  Bannister?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  hear  you  sing  words  of 
mine.     See,  here  are  two  or  three." 

She  glanced  through  them ;  then  she  shut 
the  book  and  made  as  though  to  rise. 

"  You  won't  do  it  ?  " 

Janet  blushed  and  looked  troubled. 

"I'm  so  sorry,  Mr.  Bannister;  but  I  can't 
sing  those  words.     I — I  don't  like  them." 

"lam  sorry  they  are  so  bad,"  he  answered 
in  an  offended  tone. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  so  far  as  power  and — and 
beauty  goes,  everything  in  the  book  is  trash 
compared  to  them.     But  I  can't  sing  them." 

"  I  won't  press  you." 

"  I  know  you  are  angry.  Please  don't  be 
angry,  Mr.  Bannister.  I  can't  do  what  I  think 
wrong,  can  I  }  " 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  right  to  be  angry." 

"  There,  you  wouldn't  say  that  unless  you 
were   angry.     People   never   do." 

"You  have  such  a  wretchedly  bad  opinion 
of  me.  Miss  Uelane." 

"  Do  you  mind  that  ?  " 

"  You  know  I  do," 


DALE'S  OWN  OPINION.  8$ 

"  Then  one  would  think  you  would  try  to 
change  it." 

"  Ah,  how  can  I  ?  " 

"  Write  something  I  should  delight  in  sing- 
ing." 
"  If  I  do,  may  I  dedicate  it  to  you .''  " 
"  I'm  afraid  that  wouldn't  be  allowed." 
"  But   if   it  were  allowed,  would  you  allow 
it?" 

"  You  know  how  proud  any  girl  would  be  of 
it — of  course  you  know." 

"  You  don't  do  justice  to  my  humility." 
"  Do  justice  to  yourself  first,  Mr.  Bannister." 
"  What  sort  of  songs  do  you  like  .'' " 
"  Oh,  anything   honest,  and  manly,  and  pa- 
triotic, and — and  nice  in  feeling." 

"  A   catholic   taste — and   yet   none   of   mine 
satisfy  it." 

"  I   will   not    be  quarreled   with,"    declared 
Janet. 

"  My  only  wish  is  to  propitiate  ji'ou." 
"  Then  you  know  now  how  to  do  it." 
It  must  be  allowed  that  conversations  of  this 
nature  have  a  pleasantness  of  their  own,  and 
Dale  left  the  Grange  with  a  delightful  feeling  of 
having  been  treated  as  he  ought  to  be  treated. 
He  found  Philip  Hume  writing  and  smoking  in 
the  study. 

"  Well,   been    stroked     the   right    way,   old 
man  }  "  asked  Philip,  throwing  down  his  pen. 

Dale    helped    himself   to    whisky   and    soda 
water,  without  replying. 

"  I've  been  having  a  talk  with  Nellie,"  pursued 
Philip. 


86  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  What's  wrong  with  Nellie  ?  " 

"  She's  got  some  notion  in  her  head  that  she 
and  her  mother  ought  to  go," 

Dale  was  lighting  a  cigar. 

"  Of  course  I  told  her  it  was  all  nonsense, 
and  that  you  meant  them  to  stay  as  long  as 
they  liked.  She's  got  some  maggot  in  her 
head  about  propriety — all  nonsense,  when  her 
mother's  here." 

"  I  don't  want  them  to  go,  if  they  like  stay- 
ing," said  Dale. 

"  Well,  we  should  be  slow  without  Nellie, 
shouldn't  we?  You  must  blow  her  up  for 
thinking  of  it.  She  only  wants  to  be  per- 
suaded." 

"  She  can  do  as  she  likes." 

"  You  don't  seem  very  enthusiastic  about  it, 
one  way  or  the  other." 

"  Well,  my  dear  Phil,  I  can't  be  expected  to 
cry  at  the  idea  of  little  Nellie  Fane  leaving  us." 

"  Yet  you  made  rather  a  point  of  her  com- 
ing— but  that  was  two  months  ago." 

"  Really,  you  might  leave  Nellie  and  me  to 
settle  it." 

"  What  I  told  her  was  right,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"Well,  you  don't  suppose  I  wanted  you  to 
tell  her  to  pack  up  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  want,  old  man," 
said  Philip  ;  "  and  I  doubt  if  you  do." 


CHAPTER   X. 
B  iprcjuDiceD  IDcrDtct. 


T  has  been  contumeliously  said  by 
insolent  Englishmen — a  part  of  our 
^^  population  which  may  sometimes 
seem  to  foreign  eyes  as  large  as  the 
whole — that  you  might  put  any  other  of  the 
world's  capitals,  say  Paris  or  New  York,  down 
in  London,  and  your  cabman  would  not  be 
able  to  find  it.  However  this  may  be, — and 
there  is  no  need  in  this  place  either  for  asser- 
tions or  admissions, — it  is  certain  that  you 
might  unload  a  wagonful  of  talents  in  Picca- 
dilly, and  they  would  speedily  be  absorbed  and 
leave  little  obvious  trace  of  the  new  ingredient. 
Hence  the  advantage,  for  a  man  who  does 
not  dislike  the  digito  monstrari et  dicier  "hie 
est,"  of  dwelling  in  small  places,  and  hence,  a 
cynic  might  suggest,  the  craving  for  quieter 
quarters  displayed  by  some  of  our  less  con- 
spicuous celebrities.  It  is  better,  says  a  certain 
authority,  to  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven  ; 
and  a  man  may  grow  weary  of  w'alkmg 
unrecognized  down  the  Strand,  when  he  has 
only,  to  be  the  beheld  of  all  beholders,  to  take 
up  his  residence  in — perhaps  it  will  be  more 
prudent  to   say  Market    Denborough,  and   not 


88  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

point  the  finger  of  printed  scorn  at  any  better 
known  resort. 

This  very  ungenerous  explanation  was  the 
one  which  Miss  Victoria  Smith  chose  to  adopt 
as  accounting  for  Dale  Bannister's  coming  to 
Littlehill.  Such  an  idea  had  never  crossed  her 
mind  at  first,  but  it  became  evident  that  a  man 
who  could  leave  his  friend  in  the  lurch  and 
palter  with  his  principles,  as  Dale's  letter  to  the 
Chrotiicle  showed  him  to  be  doing,  could  only 
be  credited  with  any  discoverable  motive  less 
bad  and  contemptible  than  the  worst  through 
mere  hastiness  and  ill-considered  good  nature. 
For  her  part,  she  liked  a  man  to  stick  to  his 
colors  and  to  his  friends,  and  not  be  ashamed 
before  the  tea  tables  of  Denshire.  No,  she  had 
never  read  his  poems,  she  had  no  time,  but 
papa  had,  and  agreed  with  every  word  of  them. 

"  Gad  !  does  he  ?  "  said  Sir  Harry  Fulmer,  to 
whom  these  views  were  expressed.  "  Well 
played  the  Colonel  !  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  some  of  them  made  me  sit  up  rather," 
remarked  Sir  Harry. 

"  Oh,  anything  would  make  you  'sit  up,'  as 
you  call  it.     I  don't  consider  you  a  Radical." 

"  I  voted  for  your  friend  the  Doctor  anyhow." 

"  Yes,  that  was  good  of  you.  You  were  the 
only  one  with  an  elementary  sense  of  justice." 

Sir  Harry's  sense  of  justice,  elementary  or 
other,  had  had  very  little  to  do  with  his  vote, 
but  he  said  with  honest  pride: 

"  Somebody  ought  to  stand  by  a  fellow  when 
he's  down." 


A  PREJUDICED  VERDICT.  89 

"Especially  when  he's  in  the  right." 

"  Well,  I  don't  quite  see,  Miss  Smith,  what 
business  it  was  of  Roberts'  to  cut  up  the 
Vicar's  sermon.  Naturally  the  Vicar  don't 
like  it." 

"  So  he  takes  his  medicine  from  Dr.  Spink  !" 

"  Rather  awkward  for  him  to  have  Roberts 
about  the  place." 

"Oh,  of  course  you  defend  him." 

"  The  Vicar's  a  very  good  fellow,  though  he's 
a  Tory." 

"  You  seem  to  think  all  Tories  good  fellows." 

"  So  they  are,  most  of  them." 

"  I  suppose  you  think  Mr.  Bannister's  right 
too  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  be  so  down  on  him  as  you  are." 

"  You  like  people  who  lead  their  friends  on 
and  then  forsake  them  ?  " 

"  Bannister  never  asked  him  to  write  the 
letter." 

"  Well,  it's  not  my  idea  of  friendship.  I 
wouldn't  have  a  friend  who  thought  that  con- 
duct right." 

"  Then  I  think  it  deuced  wrong,"  said  Sir 
Harry   promptly. 

"  It's  no  compliment  to  a  woman  to  treat  her 
like  a  baby,"  remarked  Tora  with  dignity. 

Sir  Harry  perceived  that  it  would  be  to  his 
advantage  to  change  the  subject. 

"  Are  you  going  skating  ? "  he  asked. 
"  There's  nothing  else  to  do  in  this  beastly 
frost." 

"  Does  the  ice  bear  ?  " 

"  Yes,  they're  skating  on  the  Grange  lake.     I 


go  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

met  Hume,  Bannister's  friend,  and  he  told  me 
Bannister  was  there." 

"  Wasn't  he  going  ?     I  rather  like  him." 

"  No,  he  was  walking  with  Miss  Fane.  I 
believe  I  rather  put  my  foot  in  it  by  asking  her 
if  she  wasn't  going." 

"  Why  shouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  She  said  she  didn't  know  Mrs.  Delane,  and 
looked  confused,  don't  you  know." 

"  Hasn't  Mrs.  Delane  called  ?  " 

"  It  seems  not,"  said  Sir  Harry. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  they  are  going  to  stay 
at  Littlehill  ?  " 

"  Forever,  apparently.  Shall  you  come  to 
the  lake  ?  " 

"Perhaps  in  the  afternoon." 

Tora  returned  to  the  house,  still  wondering. 
She  was  very  angry  with  Dale,  and  prepared  to 
think  no  good  of  him.  Was  it  possible  that 
she  and  the  Colonel  had  been  hasty  in  stretch- 
ing out  the  hand  of  welcome  to  Mrs.  Hodge 
and  her  daughter  ?  For  all  her  independence, 
Tora  liked  to  have  Mrs.  Delane's  iviprimatur 
on  the  women  of  her  acquaintance.  She 
thought  she  would  have  a  word  with  the  Colo- 
nel, and  went  to  seek  him  in  his  study.  He 
was  not  there,  but  it  chanced  that  there  lay  on 
the  table  a  copy  of  Dale's  first  published  vol- 
ume, "  The  Clarion."  Three-quarters  of  the 
little  book  were  occupied  with  verses  on  mat- 
ters of  a  more  or  less  public  description — beliefs 
past  and  future,  revolutions  effected  and  prayed 
for,  and  so  forth  ;  the  leaves  bore  marks  of  use, 
and  evidently  were  often  turned  by  the  Colonel. 


A  PREJUDICED  VERDICT.  9 1 

But  bound  up  with  them  was  a  little  sheaf  of 
verses  of  an  amatory  character :  where  these 
began,  the  Colonel's  interest  appeared  to  cease, 
for  the  pages  were  uncut ;  he  had  only  got  as 
far  as  the  title.  It  was  not  so  with  his  daughter. 
Having  an  idle  hour  and  some  interest  in  the 
matters  and  affairs  of  love,  she  took  a  paper- 
knife  and  sat  down  to  read.  Poets  are,  by 
ancient  privilege,  legibus  soluti,  and  Dale  cer- 
tainly reveled  in  his  freedom.  Still,  perhaps, 
the  verses  were  not  in  reality  so  very,  very 
atrocious  as  they  unhappily  appeared  to  the 
young  lady  who  now  read  them.  Tora  was 
accustomed  to  consider  herself  almost  a  revolu- 
tionary spirit,  and  her  neighbors,  half  in  ear- 
nest, half  in  joke,  encouraged  the  idea  ;  but 
her  revolutions  were  to  be  very  strictly  confined, 
and  the  limits  of  her  free-thought  were  marked 
out  by  most  unyielding  metes  and  bounds — 
bounds  that  stopped  very  short  at  the  church 
door  and  on  the  domestic  threshold.  This 
frame  of  mind  is  too  common  to  excite  com- 
ment, and  it  had  been  intensified  in  her  by  the 
social  surroundings  against  which  she  was  in 
mock  revolt.  Dale's  freedom  knew  no  tram- 
mels, or  had  known  none  when  he  wrote  "  The 
Clarion  ";  nothing  was  sacred  to  him  except 
truth,  everything  as  nothing  beside  reason,  rea- 
son the  handmaid  of  passion,  wherein  the  spirit 
and  individuality  of  each  man  found  their  right- 
ful expression.  This  theory,  embodied  in  a  poet's 
fancy  and  enlivened  by  a  young  man's  ardor, 
made  fine  verses,  but  verses  which  startled  Tora 
Smith.     She  read  for  half  an  hour,  and  then, 


92  A   CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

flinging  the  book  down  and  drawing  a  long 
breath,  exclaimed  :  "  I  can  believe  anything  of 
him  now  ! " 

And  she  had  had  this  man  to  dinner!  And 
that  girl  !     Who  was  that  girl  ? 

The  Colonel  came  home  to  luncheon  in  very 
good  spirits.  He  had  just  succeeded,  in  the 
interests  of  freedom,  in  stirring  up  a  spirit  of 
active  revolt  in  Alderman  Johnstone.  The 
Alderman  had  hitherto,  like  his  father  before 
him,  occupied  his  e.xtensive  premises  on  a 
weekly  tenancy  ;  he  had  never  been  threatened 
with  molestation  or  eviction  ;  but  he  felt  that  he 
existed  on  sufferance,  and  the  consciousness  of 
his  precarious  position  had  been  irksome  to  him. 
A  moment  had  come  when  the  demand  for 
houses  was  slack,  when  two  or  three  were 
empty,  and  when  the  building  trade  itself  was 
nearly  at  a  standstill.  The  Colonel  had  incited 
Johnstone  to  seize  the  opportunity  to  ask  from 
the  Squire  a  lease,  and  Johnstone  had  promised 
to  take  nothing  less  than  "  seven,  fourteen,  or 
twenty-one."  If  refused,  he  declared  he  would 
surrender  the  premises  and  build  for  himself 
on  some  land  of  the  Colonel's  just  outside  the 
town. 

"  Delanc  must  grant  it,"  said  the  Colonel, 
rubbing  his  hands,  "  and  then  we  shall  have  one 
house  anyhow  where  our  bills  can  be  put  up. 
Bannister  will  be  delighted.  By  the  way,  Tora, 
he  wants  us  to  go  in  to  tea  to-day,  after  skating. 
I  suppose  you're  going  to  skate?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  skate,  but  I  am  not  going  to 
Mr.  Bannister's,"  said  Tora  coldly. 


A  PREJUDICED  VERDICT.  93 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

The  Colonel  was  told  why  not  with  explicitness 
and  vehemence.  He  tugged  his  white  whisker 
in  some  perplexity  :  he  did  not  mind  much 
about  the  poems,  though,  of  course,  no  excess 
of  scrupulousness  could  be  too  great  in  a  girl 
like  Tora ;  but  if  she  were  right  about  the 
other  affair !     That  must  be  looked  into. 

The  Colonel  was  one  of  those  people  who 
pride  themselves  on  tact  and  savoir  faire  ;  he 
jiggravated  this  fault  by  believing  that  tact 
and  candor  could  be  combined  in  a  happy 
union,  and  he  determined  to  try  the  effect  of 
the  mixture  on  Dale  Bannister.  It  would  go 
hard  if  he  did  not  destroy  this  mare's  nest  of 
Tora's. 

All  the  neighborhood  was  skating  on  the 
Grange  lake  under  a  winter  sun,  w^hose  ruddy 
rays  tinged  the  naked  trees,  and  drew  an  an- 
sw^ering  glitter  from  the  diamond-paned  win- 
dows of  the  house.  The  reeds  were  motionless, 
and  the  graze  of  skaters  on  the  ice  sounded 
sharp  in  the  still  air,  and  struck  the  ear  through 
the  swishing  of  birch  brooms  and  the  shuffle  of 
sweepers'  feet.  From  time  to  time  a  sudden 
thud  and  a  peal  of  laughter  following  told  of 
disaster,  or  there  grated  across  the  lake  a  chair, 
carrying  one  who  preferred  the  conquest  of 
men  to  the  science  of  equilibrium .  Rosy  cheeks 
glowed,  nimble  feet  sped,  and  lissom  figures 
swayed  to  and  fro  as  they  glided  over  the  shin- 
ing surface,  till  even  the  old  and  the  stout,  the 
cripples  and  the  fox  hunters,  felt  the  glow  of 
life  tingling  in  their  veins,  and   the  beauty  of 


94  "     A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

<he  world  feeding  their  spirits  with  fresh  desire. 
"  It  is  not  all  of  life  to  live,"  but,  at  such  a 
moment,  it  is  the  best  part  of  it. 

Dale  Bannister  was  enjoying  himself ;  he  was 
a  good  skater,  and  it  gave  him  pleasure  that, 
when  people  turned  to  look  at  the  famous  poet, 
they  should  see  an  athletic  youth  :  only  he 
wished  that  Janet  Delane  would  give  him  an 
opportunity  of  offering  his  escort,  and  not  ap- 
pear so  contented  with  the  company  of  a  tall 
man  of  military  bearing,  who  had  come  down 
to  the  water  with  the  Grange  party.  He  was 
told  that  the  newcomer  was  Captain  Ripley, 
Lord  Cransford's  eldest  son,  and  he  did  not 
escape  without  witnessing  some  of  the  nods  and 
becks  which,  in  the  country,  where  everybody 
knows  everybody,  accompany  the  most  incip- 
ient stages  of  a  supposed  love  affair.  Feeling, 
under  these  circumstances,  a  little  desolate,  for 
Philip  was  engrossed  in  figures  and  would  not 
waste  his  time  talking,  he  saw  with  pleasure 
Tora  Smith  and  Sir  Harry  coming  toward  him. 
He  went  to  meet  them,  and,  at  a  distance  of  a 
few  yards  from  them,  slackened  his  pace  and 
lifted  his  hat,  not  doubting  of  friendly  recogni- 
tion. Sir  Harry  returned  his  salute  with  a 
cheery  "  How  are  you  ?  "  but  did  not  stop,  for 
Tora  swept  on  past  Dale  Bannister,  without  a 
glance  at  him.  In  surprise,  he  paused.  "She 
must  have  seen  me,"  he   thought,  "  but  why  in 

the  world "      Bent  on   being  sure,  he  put 

himself  right  in  her  path  as  she  completed  the 
circle  and  met  him  again.  There  was  no  mis- 
taking her  intention  ;    she  gave  him    the    cut 


A  PREJUDICED  VERDICT.  95 

direct,  as  clearly  and  as  resolutely  as  ever  it 
was  given. 

Sir  Harry  had  remonstrated  in  vain.  In 
Tora's  uncompromising  mind  impulse  did  not 
wait  on  counsel,  and  her  peremptory  "  I  have 
my  reasons  "  refused  all  information  and  pre- 
vented all  persuasion.  He  felt  he  had  done 
enough  for  friendship  when  he  braved  her 
disapproval  by  declining  to  follow  her  example. 
He  did  not  pretend  to  understand  the  ways  of 
women,  and  Dale  Bannister  might  fight  his 
own  battles. 

While  Dale  was  yet  standing  in  angry  be- 
wilderment,— for  who  had  received  him  with 
more  cordiality  than  she  who  now  openly 
insulted  him  .'' — he  saw  the  Colonel  hobbling 
toward  him  across  the  slippery  expanse.  The 
Colonel  fell  once,  and  Dale  heard  him  swear 
testily  at  the  sweeper  who  helped  him  to  rise. 
He  thought  it  kind  to  meet  him  halfway  ;  per- 
haps the  Colonel  would  explain.  The  Colonel 
was  most  ready  to  do  so  ;  in  fact,  he  had  come 
for  the  very  purpose  of  warning  Bannister  that 
some  silly  idea  was  afloat,  which  it  only  needed 
a  word  to  scatter. 

"Is  there?"  said  Dale.  "Possibly  that  is 
why  Miss  Smith  failed  to  see  me  twice  just 
now  ?  " 

"  Your  poems  have  shocked  her,  my  boy," 
said  the  Colonel,  with  a  knowing  look — 
the  look  that  represented  tact  and  savoir 
faire. 

"  Is  that  all  ?  She  takes  rather  severe  meas- 
ures, doesn't  she?  " 


96  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  Colonel,  with  the  smile 
which  brought  candor  into  play,  "  that  isn't 
quite  all." 

"  What  in  the  world  else  is  there?  " 

"You  know  how  censorious  people  are,  and 
how  a  girl  takes  alarm  at  the  very  idea  of 
anything — you  know  ?  " 

Dale  chafed  at  these  diplomatic  approaches. 

"  If  there's  anything  said  against  me,  pray 
let  me  know." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  very  definite,"  said  the 
Colonel  uneasily.  He  did  not  find  what  he  had 
to  say  so  simple  as  it  had  seemed. 

"  Indefinite  things  are  most  hopeless." 

"  Yes,  yes,  quite  so.  Well,  if  you  really  wish 
it — if  you  won't  be  offended.  No  doubt  it's  al! 
a  mistake." 

"  What  do  they  say  ?  " 

"Well,  we're  men  of  the  world,  Bannister. 
The  fact  is,  people  don't  quite  understand 
your — your  household." 

"  My  houshold  ?  It  consists  of  myself  alone 
and  the  servants." 

"Of  course,  my  dear  fellow,  of  course!  I 
knew  it  was  so,  but  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say 
so  on  your  own  authority." 

The  aim  of  speech  is,  after  all,  only  to  con- 
vey ideas ;  the  Colonel  had  managed,  however 
clumsily,  to  convey  his  idea.  Dale  frowned, 
and  pretended  to  laugh. 

"How  absurd!"  he  said.  "  I  should  resent 
it  if  it  were  not  too  absurd." 

"  I'm  sure.  Bannister,  you'll  acquit  me  of  any 
meddling." 


A  PREJUDICED  VERDICT.  97 

"Oh,  yes.  I'm  sorry  my  guests  have  given 
rise,  however  innocently,  to  such  talk." 

It's  most  unfortunate.  I'm  sure  nothing 
more  is  needed.     I  hope  the  ladies  are  well?  " 

"  Yes,  thanks." 

"  I  don't  see  them  here." 

"  No,  they're  not  here,"  answered  Dale, 
frowning  again. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  see  some  more  of  them  ?  " 

"  You're  very  kind.  I — I  don't  suppose  they 
— will  be  staying  much  longer." 

As  Dale  made  his  way  to  the  bank  to  take 
off  his  skates,  Janet  and  Tora  passed  him  to- 
gether. Tora  kept  her  eyes  rigidly  fixed  on  the 
chimneys  of  the  Grange.  He  made  no  sign  of 
expecting  recognition,  but  Janet,  as  she  drew 
near,  looked  at  him,  blushing  red,  and  bowed 
and  smiled. 

"  That  girl's  a  trump,"  said  Dale  Bannister. 
*'  She  sticks  to  her  friends," 


CHAPTER  XI. 

B  3f  able  about  miv^e. 

RS.  HODGE  and  Nellie,  being  left  to 
their  own  resources,  had  employed  the 
afternoon  in  paying  a  visit  to  Ethel 
Roberts,  and  nothing  was  wanting  to 
fill  Dale's  cup  of  vexation  to  overflowing,  unless 
it  were  to  have  Nellie  flying  open-mouthed  at 
him,  as  he  grumblingly  expressed  it,  with  a  tale 
of  the  distress  in  the  Doctor's  household, 
Ethel  Roberts  had  the  fortitude  to  bear  her 
troubles,  the  added  fortitude  to  bear  them 
cheerfully,  but  not  the  supreme  fortitude  which 
refuses  to  tell  a  tale  of  woe  to  any  ear,  however 
sympathetic.  She  did  not  volunteer  informa- 
tion, but  she  did  allow  it  to  be  dragged  out  of 
her,  and  the  barriers  of  her  reserve  broke  down 
before  Mrs.  Hodge's  homely  consolations  and 
Nellie's  sorrowful  horror.  They  were  reduced, 
she  admitted,  in  effect  to  living  on  little  else 
than  her  own  wretched  income  ;  the  practice 
brought  in  hardly  more  than  it  took  out,  for, 
while  the  rich  patients  failed,  the  poor  remained  ; 
the  rent  was  overdue,  bills  were  unpaid,  and 
the  butcher,  the  milkman,  and  the  coal  mer- 
chant were  growing  sulky. 

"  And  while,"  said   Mrs.   Hodge,  "  that  poor 


A  FABLE  ABOUT  BIRDS.  99 

young  creature  is  pinching,  and  starving,  and 
crying,  the  man's  thinking  of  nothing  but 
Nihilists  and  what  not.     I'd  Nihilist  him  !" 

Dinner  was  served  to  Dale  with  sauce  of  this 
sort. 

"  Can  I  prevent  fools  suffering  for  their  folly  }  " 
he  asked. 

"  The  baby  looks  so  ill,"  said  Nellie,  "  and 
Mrs.  Roberts  is  worn  to  a  shadow." 

"  Did  you  see  Roberts.?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  For  a  minute,"  said  Nellie,  "  but  he  was 
very  cold  and  disagreeable." 

"Thought  you  were  tarred  with  the  same 
brush  as  Dale,  I  suppose?" 

"  Can't  you  do  anything  for  'em,  Dale  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Hodge. 

"  I  can  send  him  a  check." 

"  He'll  send  it  back,"  remarked  Philip. 

"  I  wish  he'd  get  out  of  the  place." 

"  Yes,  he  might  as  well  be  miserable  some- 
where else,  mightn't  he.''  " 

Dale  glared  at  his  friend,  and  relapsed  into 
silence.  Nevertheless,  in  spite  of  Philip's  pre- 
diction, he  sat  down  after  dinner  and  wrote  to 
Roberts,  saying  that  he  had  heard  that  he  was 
in  temporary  embarrassment,  and  urging  him 
to  allow  Dale  to  be  his  banker  for  the  moment ; 
this  would,  Dale  added,  be  the  best  way  of 
showing  that  he  bore  no  malice  for  Dale's  letter. 
He  sent  a  man  with  the  note,  ordering  him  to 
wait  for  an  answer. 

The  answer  was  not  long  in  coming ;  the 
man  was  back  in  half  an  hour,  bringing  the 
Doctor's  reply  : 


lOO  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Three  months  ago  I  should  have  thought  it  an 
honor  to  share  my  last  crust  with  you,  and  no  shame  to 
ask  half  of  all  you  had.  Now  I  will  not  touch  a  far- 
thing of  your  money  until  you  come  back  to  us.  If  your 
friends  pay  my  wife  further  visits,  I  shall  be  obliged  if 
they  will  look  somewhat  less  keenly  at  my  household 
arrangements. 

James  Roberts. 

"There  is  the  snub  you  have  brought  on 
me!"  exclaimed  Dale  angrily,  flinging  the  letter 
to  Nellie.  "  I  might  have  known  better  than  to 
listen  to  your  stories." 

"  Dale,  Dale,  it  was  every  word  true.  How 
selfish  he  is  not  to  think  of  his  wife!" 

"  Many  people  are  selfish." 

"  Is  anything  the  matter,  Dale.?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  infernally  worried.  I  never  get  any 
peace." 

"  Hadn't  you  a  good  time  skating  }  " 

"  No.     I'm  beginning  to  hate  this  place." 

"Oh,  Dale,  I've  enjoyed  my  visit  so  much  !  " 

"  Very  glad  to  hear  it,  I'm  sure." 

"  You  must  have  seen  it ;  we've  stayed  so 
long.  I've  often  told  mamma  we  ought  to  be 
going." 

Dale  lit  a  cigarette. 

"  Indeed  we  have  had  no  mercy  on  you. 
Dale ;  but  the  country  and  the  rest  are  so 
delightful." 

"  Hum — in  some  ways." 

"  But  I  must  be  back  at  work.  Mamma 
thought  next  Saturday  would  do." 

"  As  soon  as  that  ?  "  said  Dale,  with  polite 
surprise. 

"  Think  how  long  we  have  been  here." 


A  FABLE  ABOUT  BIRDS.  lOI 

"Oh,  don't  go  on  Saturday  !  " 

Nellie's  face  brightened. 

"  Don't  you  want  us  to?  "  she  asked,  with  an 
eager  little  smile.  Dale  was  going  to  be  kind 
after  all. 

"  No.  Why  shouldn't  you  stay  till  Mon- 
day ?  " 

The  face  fell,  the  smile  disappeared  ;  but  she 
answered,  saving  her  self-respect  : 

"Saturday  is  more  convenient  for — for  arriv- 
ing in  town.  I  think  we  had  better  fix  Saturday, 
Dale." 

"  As  you  like.     Sorry  to  lose  you,  Nell." 

He  sauntered  off  to  the  smoking  room  to  join 
Philip.  When  Philip  came  into  the  drawing 
room  half  an  hour  later  in  search  of  a  book,  he 
found  Nellie  sitting  before  the  fire.  He  took 
his  stand  on  the  hearthrug,  and  looked  steadily 
down  on  her. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  he  said,  "  there  was 
a  very  beautiful  bird  who,  as  it  chanced,  grew 
up  with  a  lot  of  crows.  For  a  long  while  he 
liked  the  crows,  and  the  crows  liked  him — very 
much,  some  of  them.  Both  he  and  the  crows 
were  pleased  when  the  eagles  and  all  the  swell 
birds  admired  him,  and  said  nice  things  about 
him,  and  wanted  to  know  him — and  the  crows 
who  liked  him  most  were  most  pleased.  Pres- 
ently he  did  come  to  know  the  eagles  and  the 
other  swell  birds,  and  he  liked  them  very 
much,  and  he  began  to  get  a  little  tired  of 
the  old  crows,  and  by  and  by  he  left  their 
company  a  good  deal.  He  was  a  polite  bird 
and  a  kind  bird,  and  never  told  them  that  he 


I02  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

didn't  want  them  any  more.     But  they  saw  he 
didn't." 

There  was  a  Httle  sob  from  the  armchair. 

"  Whereupon  some  of  them  broke  their 
hearts,  and  others— didn't.  Tiie  others  were 
wisest,  Nellie." 

He  paused,  gazing  down  at  the  distressful 
little  heap  of  crumpled  drapery  and  roughened 
gleaming  hair. 

"  Much  wisest.  He  was  not  a  bad  bird  as 
birds  go — but  not  a  bird  to  break  one's  heart 
about,  Nellie  :  what  bird  is  ?  " 

There  was  another  sob.  Philip  looked  de- 
spairingly at  the  ceiling  and  exclaimed  under 
his  breath  : 

"  I  wish  to  God  she  wouldn't  cry  !  " 

He  took  his  book  from  the  mantelpiece  where 
he  had  laid  it  and  moved  toward  the  door. 
But  he  came  back  again,  unable  to  leave  her 
like  that,  and  walked  restlessly  about  the  room, 
stopping  every  now  and  then  to  stand  over  her, 
and  wonder  what  he  could  do. 

Presently  he  took  a  feverish  little  hand  in  his, 
and  pressed  it  as  it  lay  limp  there. 

"  The  old  crows  stood  by  one  another,  Nellie," 
he  said,  and  he  thought  he  felt  a  sudden  grip 
of  his  hand,  coming  and  timidly  in  an  instant 
going. 

It  seemed  to  comfort  her  to  hold  his  hand. 
The  sobs  ceased,  and  presently  she  looked  up 
and  said,  with  a  smile  : 

"  I  always  used  to  cry  at  going  back  to 
school." 

"  Going  back  to  work,"  said  Philip,  "  is  one  of 


A  FABLE  ABOUT  BIRDS.  I03 

the  few  things  in  the  world  really  worth  crying 
about." 

"  Yes,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  said,  unblushingly 
availing  herself  of  the  shelter  of  his  affected 
cynicism.  She  was  afraid  he  might  go  on  talk- 
ing about  crows,  a  topic  which  had  been  all 
very  well,  and  even  a  little  comforting,  when 
she  was  hidden  among  the  cushions,  but  would 
not  do  now. 

"  And  London  is  so  horrid  in  winter,"  she 
continued.     "  Are  you  going  back  soon  }  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  wait  a  little  and  look  after 
Dale." 

"  Dale  never  tells  one  what  is  happening." 

"  I'll  keep  you  posted,  in  case  there's  a 
revolution  in  Denborough,  or  anything  of  that 
sort." 

A  step  was  heard  outside.  With  a  sudden 
bound  Nellie  reached  the  piano,  sat  down,  and 
began  to  play  a  lively  air.  Dale  came  in,  look- 
ing suspiciously  at  the  pair. 

"  I  thought  you'd  gone  to  bed,  Nellie." 

"  Just  going.  Mr.  Hume  and  I  have  been 
talking." 

"  About  the  affairs  of  the  nation,"  said  Philip. 

"  But  I'm  off  now.     Good-night,  Dale." 

Dale  looked  closely  at  her. 

"  What  are  your  eyes  red  for  ?  Have  you 
been  crying?  " 

"Crying,  Dale.'  What  nonsense!  I've 
been  roasting  them  before  the  fire,  that's  all ; 
and  if  they  are  red,  it's  not  polite  to  say  so,  is 
it,  Mr.  Hume  }  " 

"  Rightly  understood,  criticism  is  a  compli- 


I04  A   CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

ment,  as  the  reviewers  say  when  they  slate  you," 
remarked  Phihp.  "  He  might  not  have  noticed 
your  eyes  at  all." 

"  Inconceivable,"  said  Dale  politely,  for  he 
was  feeling  very  kindly  disposed  to  this  pretty 
girl,  who  came  when  he  wanted  her,  and  went 
when — well,  after  a  reasonably  long  visit. 

"  Good-night,  Dale.  I'm  so  sorry  about— 
Mr.  Roberts,  you  know." 

Dale,  having  no  further  use  for  this  grievance, 
was  graciously  pleased  to  let  it  be  forgotten. 

"  Oh,  you  couldn't  know  he'd  be  such  a  brute. 
Good-night,  Nellie." 

The  two  men  returned  to  the  smoking  room. 
Philip,  looking  for  a  piece  of  paper  wherewith 
to  light  his  pipe,  happened  to  notice  a  little 
bundle  of  proof-sheets  lying  on  the  table. 

"  Ah,  the  spring  bubbling  again  ?  "  he  asked. 
Dale  nodded. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  how  are  the  rest  of  us  to 
get  our  masterpieces  noticed  ?  You  are  a 
monopolist." 

"  It's  only  a  little  volume." 
"  What's  it  about  ?     May  1  look  ?  " 
"Oh,  if  you  like,"  answered  Dale  carelessly ; 
but  he  kept  his  eye  on  his  friend. 

Philip  took  up  the  first  sheet,  and  read  the 
title-page  ;  he  smiled,  and,  turning  over,  came 
to  the  dedication. 

"  You  call  it  '  Amor  Patria;  ?  '  " 
"  Yes.     Do  you  like  the  title  ?  " 
"  Hum !     There  was  no  thought  of  pleasing 
me  when  it  was  christened,  I  presume.     And 
you  dedicate  it " 


A  FABLE  ABOUT  BIRDS.  I05 

"  Oh,  is  that  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that's  there — '  To  her  that  shall  be 
named  hereafter.' " 

Dale  poked  the  fire  before  he  answered. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "  that's  the  dedication." 

"  So  I  see.  Well,  I  hope  she'll  like  them. 
It  is  an  enviable  privilege  to  confer  immortality." 

"  I'll  confer  it  on  you,  if  you  like." 

"  Yes,  do.  It  will  be  less  trouble  than  getting 
it  for  myself." 

"  Under  the  title  of  '  The  Snarler.'  " 

Philip  stood  on  the  hearthrug  and  warmed 
himself. 

"  My  dear  Dale,"  he  said,  "  I  do  not  snarl. 
A  wise  author  pleases  each  section  of  the  public 
in  turn.  Hitherto  you  have  pleased  me  and 
my  kind,  and  Roberts  and  his  kind,  and  Arthur 
Angell  and  his  kind — who  are,  by  the  way,  not 
worth  pleasing,  for  they  expect  presentation 
copies.  Now,  in  this  new  work,  which  is,  I 
understand,  your  tribute  to  the   nation  which 

has  the  honor  to  bear  you,  you  will  please " 

He  paused. 

"  I  always  write  to  please  myself,"  said 
Dale. 

"  Yourself,"  continued  Philip,  "this  mysteri- 
ous lady,  and,  I  think  we  may  add,  the  Mayor 
of  Market  Denborough." 

"  Go  to  the  devil !  "  said  the  poet. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

a  DeMcatlon— anD  a  desecration. 

FEW  weeks  later  the  Mayor  stood 
at  his  door,  one  bright  morning  in 
January,  holding  a  parley  \\"ith  Alder- 
man Johnstone. 

"  I  dessay,  now,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  that  you 
aint  been  in  the  way  of  seein'  the  Squire 
lately  ?  " 

"  I  see  him  last  when  he  signed  my  lease," 
answered  the  Alderman,  with  a  grim  smile, 
"and  that's  a  month  come  to-morrow." 

"  I  had  a  conversation  with  him  yesterday, 
and  after  touchin'  on  the  matter  of  that  last 
pavin'  contract, — he'd  heard  o'  your  son-in-law 
gettin'  it,  Johnstone, — he  got  talkin'  about  Mr, 
Bannister." 

"  Aye?  did  he  ?  " 

"  And  about  his  noo  book.  '  It's  a  blessin',' 
he  says,  'to  see  a  young  man  of  such  prom- 
ise shakin'  himself  free  of  that  pestilential 
trash.'  He  meant  your  opinions  by  that,  John- 
stone." 

"  Supposing  'e  did,  what  then  ?  I  don't  label 
my  opinions  to  please  the  customers  like  as 
some  do  their  physic." 

The  Mayor  was  not  in  a  fighting  mood  ;  his 
1 06 


A  DEDICATION— AND  A   DESECRATION.       I07 

mind  was  busy  witli  speculations,  and  he 
ignored   the   challenge. 

"  Queer  start  Mr.  Bannister  showin'  up  at  the 
church  bazaar,  eh  ?  Spent  a  heap  o'  money, 
too.  I  met  Mr.  Hume,  and  asked  him  about  it, 
and  he  said " 

"  It  wan't  no  business  0'  yours,  didn't  he  }  " 

"  Mr.  Hume — he's  a  gentleman,  Johnstone," 
remarked  the  Mayor  in  grave  rebuke. 

"  Well,  what  did  'e  say  ?  " 

"  That  where  the  carcass  was,  the  eagles  'ud 
be  gathered  together." 

Mr.  Johnstone  smiled  a  smile  of  pity  for  the 
Mayor's  density. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  suppose  he  meant  ?  " 
asked  the  Mayor  in  reply  to  the  smile. 

"  Where  the  gells  is,  the  lads  is,"  said  the 
Alderman,  with  a  wink,  as  he  passed  on  his 
way. 

This  most  natural,  reasonable,  and  charitable 
explanation  of  Dale's  conduct  in  identifying 
himself  with  the  Vicar's  pastoral  labors  had, 
oddly  enough,  suggested  itself  to  no  one  else, 
unless  it  might  be  to  Captain  Gerard  Ripley. 
His  presence  had  been  hailed  on  the  one  side, 
and  anathematized  on  the  other,  as  an  outward 
sign  of  an  inward  conversion,  and  his  lavish 
expenditure  had  been  set  down  to  a  repentant 
spirit  rather  than  a  desire  to  gratify  any  par- 
ticular stall-holder.  The  Vicar  had  just  read 
"  Amor  PatriEe,"  and  he  remarked  to  everj'one 
he  met  that  the  transition  from  an  appreciation 
of  the  national  greatness  to  an  adhesion  to  the 
national  church  was  but  a  short  step. 


loB  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Unhappily,  in  a  moment  of  absence,  he 
chanced  to  say  so  to  Colonel  Smith,  who  was 
at  the  bazaar  for  the  purpose  of  demonstrating 
his  indifferent  impartiality  toward  all  religious 
sects. 

"You  might  as  well  say,"  answered  the 
Colonel  in  scorn,  "  that  because  a  man  stands 
by  the  regiment  he's  bound  to  be  thick  with 
the  chaplain." 

Captain  Ripley  alone,  with  the  penetration 
born  of  jealousy,  attributed  Dale's  presence 
simply  and  solely  to  the  same  motive  as  had 
produced  his  own,  to  wit,  a  desire  to  be  where 
Miss  Delane  was.  The  Captain  was  a  little 
sore  ;  he  had  known  Janet  from  childhood,  they 
had  exchanged  many  children's  vows,  and  when 
he  was  sixteen  and  she  thirteen  she  had 
accepted  a  Twelfth  Night  cake  ring  from  him. 
The  flirtation  had  always  proceeded  in  its 
gentle,  ambling  course,  and  the  Captain  had 
returned  on  long  leave  with  the  idea  that  it  was 
time  to  put  the  natural  termination  in  the  way 
of  being  reached.  Janet  disappointed  him  ;  she 
ridiculed  his  tender  references  to  bygone  days, 
characterizing  what  had  passed  as  boy-and-girl 
nonsense,  and  perseveringly  kept  their  inter- 
course on  a  dull  level  of  friendliness.  On  the 
other  hand,  whatever  might  be  the  nature  of 
her  acquaintance  with  Dale  Bannister,  it  was  at 
least  clear  that  it  was  marked  by  no  such 
uneventful  monotony.  Sometimes  she  would 
hardly  speak  to  him  ;  at  others  she  cared  to 
speak  to  no  one  else.  The  Captain  would  have 
profited  ill  by  the  opportunities  a  residence  in 


A  DEDICATION'— AND  A  DESECRATION.       IO9 

garrison  towns  offers  if  he  had  not  recognized 
that  these  changeful  relations  were  fraught  with 
peril  to  his  hopes. 

At  the  bazaar,  for  example,  he  was  so  much 
moved  by  a  long  conversation  between  Janet 
and  Dale,  which  took  place  over  the  handing  of 
a  cup  of  tea,  that  he  unburdened  himself  to  his 
friend  Sir  Harry  Fulmer.  Now  Sir  Harry  was 
in  a  bad  temper;  he  had  his  object  in  attending 
as  the  Captain  had,  and  Colonel  Smith  had  just 
told  him  that  Tora  was  not  coming. 

"  Who  is  the  fellow }  "  demanded  Captain 
Ripley. 

"  Writes  poetry." 

"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  I  dare  say  not.  It's  not  much  in  your  line, 
is  it?" 

"  Well,  he's  a  queer-looking  beggar." 

"  Think  so  }  Now  I  call  him  a  good-looking 
chap." 

"  Why  the  deuce  doesn't  he  get  his  hair 
cut }  " 

"  Don't  know.  Perhaps  Janet  Delane  likes  it 
long." 

"  I  hate  that  sort  of  fellow,  Harry." 

"  He's  not  a  bad  chap." 

"  Does  the  Squire  like  him  .''  " 

"  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care.  How 
beastly  hot  this  room  is  !     I  shall  go." 

"  I  say,  Harry,  I've  only  just  come  back,  you 
know.     Is  there  anything  on  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  want  to  take  a  hand,  I  should 
cut  in  pretty  sharp,"  said  Sir  Hariy,  elbowing 
his  way  to  the  door. 


no  A   CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

Captain  Ripley,  impatiently  refusing  to  buy  a 
negro  doll  which  the  Vicar's  daughter  pressed 
on  his  favorable  notice,  leaned  against  the  wall 
and  grimly  regarded  Dale  Bannister. 

The  latter  was  just  saying  : 

"  Have  you  looked  at  the  verses  at  all,  Miss 
Delane?  " 

"  I  have  read  every  one,  over  and  over.  They 
are  splendid." 

"  Oh,  I'm  new  to  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Yes,  but  it's  so — such  a  joy  to  me  to  see 
you  doing  what  is  really  worthy  of  you." 

"  If  there  is  any  credit,  it's  yours." 

"Now  why  do  you  say  that .?  It  isn't  true, 
and  it  just  spoils  it." 

"  Spoils  it  }  "  said  Dale,  who  thought  girls 
liked  compliments. 

"Yes.  If  you  had  really  only  done  it  to 
please — an  individual,  it  would  be  worth  noth- 
ing. You  couldn't  help  doing  it.  I  knew  you 
couldn't." 

"  At  any  rate,  you  must  accept  the  responsi- 
bility of  having  put  it  into  my  head." 

"  Not  even  that,  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  Oh,  but  that's  the  meaning  of  the  dedica- 
tion." 

No  one  is  quite  free  from  guile.  Janet 
answered  : 

"  The  dedication  is  rather  mysterious,  Mr. 
Bannister." 

"  I  meant  it  to  be  so  to  all  the  world." 

"  Oh,  did  you  .'*  " 

"  Except  you." 

Janet  blushed  and  smiled. 


A  DEDICATION— AND  A  DESECRATION.      HI 

"  I  wonder,"  pursued  Dale,  "  if  I  shall  ever 
be  allowed  to  name  that  lady  ?  " 

"  That  will  depend  on  whether  she  wishes 
it." 

"  Of  course.  Do  you  think  she  will — here- 
after.?" 

"  Won't  you  have  another  cup  ?  It's  only 
half  a  crown." 

"  Yes,  two  more,  please.  Do  you  think  she 
will  ?  " 

"  How  thirsty  you  seem  to  be  !  " 

"  Will  she  ?  " 

"  Now,  Mr.  Bannister,  I  mustn't  neglect  all 
my  customers.  See,  Mrs.  Gilkison  is  selling 
nothing." 

"  But  will  she  }  " 

"  Certainly  not — unless  you  go  and  buy  some- 
thing from  Mrs.  Gilkison." 

Now  whether  Janet  were  really  concerned  for 
Mrs.  Gilkison,  or  whether  she  had  caught  sight 
of  Captain  Ripley's  lowering  countenance,  or 
whether  she  merely  desired  to  avoid  pledging 
herself  to  Dale,  it  is  immaterial,  and  also  im- 
possible to  say.  Dale  felt  himself  dismissed, 
with  the  consolation  of  perceiving  that  his  dedi- 
cation had  not  been  unfavorably  received  in  the 
quarter  to  which  it  was  addressed. 

Accordingly  it  was  in  a  cheerful  frame  of 
mind  that  he  set  out  for  home,  scattering  most 
of  his  purchases  among  the  children  before  he 
went. 

He  was  in  a  kindly  mood,  and  when  he  saw 
James  Roberts  coming  up  High  Street,  he  did 
not,  as  he  had  once  or  twice  lately,  cross  the 


112  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

road  to  avoid  meeting  liim,  but  held  on  his  path, 
determined  to  offer  a  friendly  greeting. 

When  the  Doctor  came  up,  he  stopped  and 
took  from  his  breast  pocket  the  little  green 
volume  which  contained  Dale's  latest  poems. 
He  held  it  up  before  the  author's  eyes. 

"Ah,  Roberts,  I  see  you  have  the  new  work. 
How  do  you  like  it  }  " 

He  tried  to  speak  easily,  but  the  Doctor  did 
not  appear  to  be  in  a  conciliatory  temper. 

"  Are  these  things  really  yours  }  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course  they  are." 

"  This  wretched  jingo  doggerel  yours  ?  " 

Dale  felt  this  unjust.  The  verses  might  not 
express  the  Doctor's  views,  but  an  immortal 
poet's  works  are  not  lightly  to  be  called 
doggerel. 

"  What  a  narrow-minded  beggar  you  are  !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

The  Doctor  answered  nothing.  Buttoning 
up  his  threadbare  coat,  so  as  to  leave  his  arms 
free,  with  an  effort  he  tore  the  leaves  from  their 
cover,  rent  them  across,  flung  them  on  the  road, 
and  trod  them  into  the  mud.  Then,  without  a 
word,  he  passed  on  his  way,  while  Dale  stood 
and  stared  at  the  dishonored  wreck. 

"  He's  mad— stark  mad  !  "  he  declared  at 
last.     "  How  ill  th<;  poor  chap  looks,  too  !" 

The  Doctor  hurried  down  the  street,  with  a 
strange  malicious  smile  on  his  face.  Every  now 
and  then  his  hand  sought  his  breast  pocket 
again,  and  hugged  a  check  for  a  hundred 
pounds  which  lay  there.  It  was  his  last  money 
in  the  world  ;  when  that  was  gone,  his  banking 


A  DEDICATION— AND  A  DESECRATION.       113 

account  was  exhausted,  and  nothing  remained 
but  his  wife's  pittance — and  nothing  more  was 
coming.  Yet  he  had  devoted  that  sum  to  a 
purpose,  and  now  he  stopped  at  Alderman 
Jolmstone's  door,  and  asked  for  the  master  of 
the  house,  still  grimly  smiling  at  the  thought  of 
what  he  was  preparing  for  Dale  Bannister,  if 
only  Johnstone  would  help  him.  Johnstone  had 
a  lease  now,  he  was  independent — if  only  he 
would  help  him  ! 

The  Alderman  listened  to  the  plan. 

"  It's  a  new  trade  for  me,"  said  he,  with  a  grin. 

"  I  find  the  stock — I  have  it  ready.     And " 

He  held  up  the  check. 

The  Alderman's  eyes  glistened. 

"  They  can't  touch  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
should  like  to  'ave  a  shy  at  the  Squire.  'Ere's 
my  'and  upon  it." 

A  day  or  two  afterward  Dale  heard  that 
the  sale  of  "  Sluggards "  was  increasing  by 
leaps  and  bounds.  A  single  house  had  taken 
five  hundred  copies.  "  Amor  Patriae  "  had  evi- 
dently given  a  fresh  impetus  to  the  earlier  work, 
in  spite  of  the  remarkable  difference  of  tone 
which  existed  between  them. 

"  It  shows,"  said  Dale  complacently  to  Philip 
Hume,  "  that  most  people  are  not  such  intol- 
erant idiots  as  that  fellow  Roberts." 

But  what  it  really  did  show  will  appear  in 
due  season.  Dale  did  not  know ;  nor  did 
Philip,  for  he  said,  with  a  fine  sneer : 

"  It  shows  that  immorality  doesn't  matter  if 
it's  combined  with  sound  political  principles, 
old  man." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

^bc  IResponsibmtlce  of  (Bcnlus. 

^R.  SPINK  sat  in  his  comfortable 
dining  room  with  his  after-dinner 
glass  of  wine  before  him.  The  snow 
was  falling  and  the  rain  beating 
against  the  windows,  but  the  Doctor  had  fin- 
ished his  work,  and  feared  only  that  some 
sudden  call  would  compel  him  to  face  the  fury 
of  the  weather  again.  A  few  months  back  he 
would  have  greeted  any  summons,  however 
unreasonable  the  hour,  and  thought  a  new 
patient  well  bought  at  the  price  of  a  spoiled 
evening.  But  of  late  the  world  had  smiled 
upon  him,  the  hill  which  had  looked  so  steep 
was  proving  easy  to  climb,  and  he  was  already 
considering  whether  he  should  not  take  a  part- 
ner, to  relieve  him  of  the  more  irksome  parts  of 
his  duty.  He  pulled  his  neatly  trimmed  whisker 
and  caressed  his  smooth-shaven  chin,  as  he 
reflected  how  the  folly  of  that  mad  fellow, 
Roberts,  had  turned  to  his  advantage.  No 
man  could  say  that  he  had  deviated  an  inch 
from  professional  propriety,  or  pressed  his  ad- 
vantage the  least  unfairly.  He  had  merely 
persevered  on  the  lines  he  laid  down  for  him- 
self on    his  first  arrival.     The  success,  which 


THE  RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  GENIUS.       115 

astonished  even  himself,  had  come  to  him, 
partly  no  doubt,  because  merit  must  make  its 
way,  but  mainly  because  his  rival  had  willfully 
flung  away  his  chances,  preferring — and  to  Dr. 
Spink  it  seemed  a  preference  almost  insane — to 
speak  his  mind,  whatever  it  might  be,  rather 
than,  like  a  wise  man,  hold  his  tongue  and  till 
his  pockets. 

So  Roberts  had  willed,  and  hence  the  Vicar- 
age, the  Grange,  and  many  other  houses  now 
knew  his  footstep  no  more,  and  Spink  filled 
his  place.  As  he  pondered  on  this,  Dr.  Spink 
spared  a  pang  of  pity  for  his  beaten  competitor, 
wondering  what  in  the  world  the  man  meant  to 
live  upon. 

The  door  bell  rang.  He  heard  it  with  a  sigh 
—  the  half-pleased,  half-weary,  resigned  sigh 
that  a  man  utters  when  fortune  gives  him  no 
rest  in  getting  gain.  A  moment  later  he  was 
on  his  way  to  the  surgery  to  see  a  lady  who 
would  not  send  in  her  name  or  business. 

He  recognized  Ethel  Roberts  with  surprise', 
when  she  raised  her  veil.  They  had  known  one 
another  to  bow  to,  but  he  could  not  imagine 
what  brought  her  to  iiis  surgery. 

"  Mrs.  Roberts  !     Is  there  anything " 

"  Oh,  Dr.  Spink,  you  must  forgive  me  for 
coming.  I  am  in  great  trouble,  and  I  thought 
you  might  help  me." 

"  Pray  sit  down.  Is  anyone  ill — your  little 
boy  ?  " 

"No,  he's  not  ill.  It's — it's  about  my  hus- 
band." 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Roberts  is  not  ill  ?  " 


1 1 6  A  CHA  NGE  OF  AIR. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said  nervously.  "  That's 
what  I  want  to  ask  you.  Have  you  seen  him 
lately  ?  " 

"  No,  not  very  ;  I  passed  him  in  the  street  the 
other  day." 

"  He's  gone  to  London,  suddenly,  I  don't 
know  why.     Oh,  he's  been  so  strange  lately  !  " 

"  I  thought  he  looked  worried.  Tell  me 
about  it,"  said  Dr.  Spink,  moved  now  with 
genuine  pity  for  the  pale  haggard  face  before 
him. 

"  Ever  since — but  you  mustn't  tell  I  came  to 
you — or  spoke  to  anybody,  I  mean — will  you  .-*  " 

He  reassured  her,  and  she  continued  : 

"Ever  since  his  quarrel  with  Mr.  Bannister — 
you  know  about  it.-* — there  is  something  the 
matter  with  him.  He  is  moody,  and  absent- 
minded,  and — and  hasty,  and  he  settles  to  noth- 
ing.    And  now  he  is  gone  off  like  this." 

"  Come,  Mrs.  Roberts,  you  must  compose 
yourself.  I  suppose  he  has  let  these  politics 
worry  him." 

"  He  seems  to  care  nothing  for — for  his 
home  or  the  baby,  you  know ;  he  does  noth- 
ing but  read,  or  wander  up  and  down  the 
room." 

"  It  sounds  as  if  he  wanted  a  rest  and  a 
change.     You  say  he  has  gone  away  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  but  on  business,  I  think." 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  tell  you  much,  unless  he 
calls  me  in  and  lets  me  have  a  look  at  him." 

"  He'll  never  do  that !  "  she  exclaimed,  before 
she  could  stop  herself. 

Dr.  Spink  took  no  notice  of  her  outburst. 


THE  RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  GENIUS.       1 1? 

"  If  he  comes  back  no  better,  send  ine  a 
line,  Mrs.  Roberts,  and  we'll  see.  And  mind 
you  let  me  know  if  you  or  the  baby  want  any 
advice." 

"  You're  very  kind.  Dr.  Spink.  I — I'm  sorry 
James  is  so " 

"  Oh,  that's  a  symptom.  If  he  gets  right,  he 
won't  be  like  that.  Your  jacket's  too  thin  for 
such  a  night.  Let  me  send  you  home  in  the 
brougham." 

Ethel  refused  the  offer,  and  started  on  her 
return,  leaving  Dr.  Spink  shaking  a  thoughtful 
head  in  the  surgery  doorway. 

"It  really  looks,"  he  said,  "as  if  he  was  a 
bit  queer.  But  what  can  I  do  ?  Poor  little 
woman  !  " 

And,  not  being  able  to  do  anything,  he 
went  back  and  finished  his  glass  of  port. 
Then,  for  his  dinner  had  been  postponed  till 
late  by  business,  and  it  was  half-past  ten,  he 
went  to  bed. 

Ethel  beat  her  way  down  the  High  Street 
against  the  wind  and  snow,  shutting  her  eyes 
in  face  of  the  blinding  shower,  and  pushing  on 
with  all  her  speed  to  rejoin  her  baby,  whom 
she  had  left  alone.  When,  wet  and  weary,  she 
reached  her  door,  to  her  surprise  she  saw  a  man 
waiting  there.  For  a  moment  she  joyously 
thought  it  was  her  husband,  but  as  the  man 
came  forward  to  meet  her,  she  recognized  Philip 
Hume. 

"  Out  on  such  a  night,  Mrs.  Roberts  !  " 

She  murmured  an  excuse,  and  he  went  on  : 

"  Is  the  Doctor  in  ?     I  came  to  look  him  up." 


Il5  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  No,  he's  away  in  London,  Mr.  Hume." 

"  In  London  }     What  for  }  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"May  I  come  in  for  a  moment?"  asked 
Philip,  who  had  been  looking  at  her  closely. 

"  If  you  like,"  she  answered  in  some  surprise. 
"  I'm  afraid  there's  no  fire." 

Philip  had  followed  her  in  and  seen  the  grate 
in  the  sitting  room  with  no  fire  lighted. 

"  No  fire  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  There  is  one  in  my  room  where  baby  is," 
she  explained. 

"  There  ought  to  be  one  here  too,"  said  he. 
"You're  looking  ill." 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  ill,  Mr.  Hume — I'm  not  indeed." 

Philip  had  come  on  an  errand.  There  are 
uses  even  in  gossips,  and  he  had  had  a  talk  with 
his  friend  the  Mayor  that  day. 

"  Where  are  the  coals  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  There  are  some  in  the  scuttle,"  she  said. 

He  looked  and  found  a  few  small  ])ieces. 
The  fire  was  laid  with  a  few  more.  Philip  lit 
them  and  threw  on  all  the  rest.  Then  he  went 
to  the  door,  and  shouted  : 

"Wilson  !" 

The  small  shrewd-faced  man  who  waited  on 
Dale  Bannister  appeared.  He  was  pushing  a 
wheelbarrow  before  him. 

"  Wheel  it  into  the  passage,"  said  Philip ; 
"  and  then  go.     And,  mind,  not  a  word  !  " 

Wilson  looked  insulted. 

"  I  don't  talk,  sir,"  said  he. 

Philip  returned  to  the  room. 

"  Mrs.  Roberts,"  he  said,  "  listen  to  me.     I  am 


THE  RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  GENIUS.       Hg 

a  friend  of  your  husband's.  Will  you  let  me 
help  you  ?  " 

*'  Indeed,  I  need  no  help." 

"  I  know  you  are  frozen,"  he  went  on  ;  "  and — 
where  is  the  servant .''  " 

"  She  has  left.  I — I  haven't  got  another  yet," 
she  faltered. 

"  In  the  passage,"  Philip  went  on,  "  there  is  a 
wheelbarrow.  It  holds  coals,  food,  and  drink. 
It's  for  you." 

She  started  up. 

"  I  can't — indeed  I  can't !  Jim  wouldn't  like 
it." 

"Jim  be  hanged!  I'll  settle  with  him. 
You're   to   take   them.     Do   you   hear.-*" 

She  did  not  answer.  He  walked  up  to  her 
and  put  a  little  canvas  bag  in  her  hands. 

"  There's  money.  No,  take  it.  I  shall  keep 
an  account." 

"  I  really  don't  need  it." 

"  You  do — you  know  you  do.  How  much 
money  has  he  left  you  .''  " 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  He's  not  himself,  he  isn't  indeed,  Mr.  Hume, 
or  he  wouldn't " 

"  No,  of  course  he  isn't.  So  I  do  what  he 
would,  if  he  were  himself.  You  were  going  to 
starve." 

"  He  will  be  angry." 

"  Then  don't  tell  him.  He'll  never  notice. 
Now,  will   he?" 

"  He  notices   nothing  now,"  she  said. 

"  And  you'll  take  them  ?  Come,  think  of 
what's-his-name — the  baby,  you  know." 


I20  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  You're  too  kind  to  me." 

"  Nonsense !  Of  course  we  look  after  you, 
Mrs.  Roberts." 

"  Mr.  Hume,  do  you  think — what  do  you 
think  is  the  matter  with  Jim  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  think  he's  an  old  fool,  Mrs.  Roberts, 
and  you  may  tell  him  so  from  me.  No,  no,  he'll 
be  all  right  in  a  week  or  two.  Meanwhile,  we're 
going  to  make  you  and  Tommy — oh,  Johnny, 
is  it? — comfortable." 

He  did  not  leave  her  till  she  had  consented 
to  accept  all  he  offered  ;  then  he  went  back  to 
Littlehill. 

"  I  think.  Dale,"  he  said,  "  Roberts  must  be 
mad.     He  left  his  wife  and  child  starving." 

"  Did  she  take  the  things  }  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  made  her." 

"  That's  all  right.  What  a  strange  beggar  he 
is  !     He  can't  be  quite  right  in  his  head." 

"  Fancy  that  poor  little  woinan  left  like  that  I  " 

"  Horrii)Ie  !  "  said  Dale,  with  a  shudder.  "  At 
any  rate  we  can  prevent  that.  I'm  so  glad  you 
thought  of  it." 

"  Old  Hedger  told  me  they  had  ordered 
nothing   for   three   days." 

"  How  tlie  deuce  does  Hedger  know  every- 
thing ?  " 

"  It's  lucky  he  knew  this,  isn't  it  .''  " 

"  By  Jove,  it  is  !  Because,  you  know,  Phil,  I 
feel  a  kind  of  responsibility." 

"  Nonsense,  Dale  !     Not  really  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  laugh.  Of  course  I  couldn't 
know  the  man  was  a  sort  of  lunatic.  One 
doesn't  write  for  lunatics." 


THE  RESPONSIBILITIES  OF  GENIUS.       121 

"  Perhaps  they  ought  to  be  considered,  being 

so  numerous." 

"  However,  it's  all  right  now.     Awfully  obliged 

to  you,  Phil." 

"  I  wonder  if  he'll  come  back." 

"  Roberts  ?.    Why  shouldn't  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  but  he's  quite  capable  of  just 

cutting  the  whole  concern." 

"  I  think  he's  capable  of  anything." 
"Except  appreciating  'Amor  Patriae,' eh?  " 
Dale,  having  got  the  Roberts  family  off  his 

mind,  drifted  to  another  topic. 

"  I  say,  Phil,  old  chap,  will  you  stop  playing 

the  fool  for  once,  and  give  me  your  advice  ?  " 

"  What  about  ?  "  asked  Philip,  throwing  him- 
self into  an  armchair. 

"What,"  said  Dale  gravely,  filling  his  pipe, 

"  do  you  think  about  getting  married  ?  " 
"  Are  you  thinking  of  it  ?  " 
"  Discuss  marriage  in  the  abstract." 
"  It  is  a  position  of  greater  responsibility  and 

less  freedom." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.     But  a  lot  depends  on 

the  girl,  doesn't  it?  " 
"  I  expect  so." 

"  I  say,  Phil,  what  do  you  think  of  Ripley  ?" 
"  He  seemed  a  decent  enough  fellow." 
"  Do  you  think — I  mean,  do  you  call  him  an 

attractive  fellow?  " 
"Oh,  uncommonly !  " 
"  Really  ?  " 
"  Well,  why  not?  " 

Dale  fidgeted  in  his  chair,  and  relit  the  pipe, 
which  had  gone  out.     He  was  much  too  per- 


122  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

turbed  to  give  to  the  filling  of  it  the  attention 
that  operation  needs. 

"  I  suppose  he'll  be  rich,  and  a  swell,  and 
all  that,"  he  went  on. 

"  No  doubt — but  not  a  Victorian  poet." 

"  Don't  be  a  fool !  " 

"  I  meant  it  kindly.     Some  girls  like  poets." 

"  They  were  awfully  kind  about  '  Amor 
Patriae'  at   the   Grange   to-night." 

"  Oh,  you've  been  there  }  " 

"  You  know  I  have.  Ripley  was  there.  I 
don't  think  I  care  much  about  him,  Phil." 

"  Don't  you  .''     Does  he  like  you  ?  " 

Dale  laughed  as  he  rose  to  go  to  bed. 

"  Not  much,  I  think,"  said  he. 

Philip  also,  being  left  companionless,  got  up 
and  knocked  out  his  pipe.  Then  he  stood 
looking  into  the  dying  embers  for  a  minute  or 
two,  and  thinking,  as  he  warmed  his  hands 
with  the  last  of  the  heat.  "  Poor  little  Nellie  !  " 
he  said.  After  a  pause,  he  said  it  again  ;  and 
once  again  after  that.  But  then,  as  saying  it 
was  no  use  at  all,  he  sighed  and  went  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

^r.  Delanc  ILiftes  tbc  IFOea. 

N  a  bright  morning,  wlien  February 
was  in  one  of  its  brief  moods  of  kindli- 
ness, Janet  Delane  was  in  the  garden, 
and  flitting  from  it  into  the  hothouses 
in  search  of  flowers.  It  was  half-past  eleven, 
and  Captain  Ripley  had  kept  her  gossiping  long 
after  breakfast  ;  that  was  the  worst  of  idle  men 
staying  in  a  house.  So  she  hastened  to  and 
fro  in  a  great  parade  of  business-like  activity, 
and,  as  she  went,  she  would  sing  blithely  and 
stop  and  smile  to  herself,  and  break  into  sing- 
ing again,  and  call  merrily  to  her  dog,  a  rotund, 
slate-colored  bundle  of  hair  that  waddled  after 
her,  and  answered,  if  he  were  given  time  to  get 
within  earshot,  to  the  name  of  Mop.  Mop  was 
more  sedate  than  his  mistress  :  she  only  pre- 
tended to  be  on  business  bent,  while  he  had 
been  dragged  out  to  take  a  serious  constitutional 
on  account  of  his  growing  corpulence,  and  it 
made  him  sulky  to  be  called  here  and  beckoned 
there,  and  told  there  were  rats,  and  cats,  and 
what  not — whereas  in  truth  there  was  no  such 
thing.  But  Janet  did  not  mind  his  sulkiness ; 
she  smiled,  and  sang,  and  smiled,  for  she  was 
thinking — but  is  nothing  to  be  sacred  from  a 


124  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

prying  race  ?  It  is  no  concern  of  anyone's 
what  she  was  thinking,  and  no  doubt  she  did 
not  desire  it  to  be  known,  or  she  would  have 
told  Captain  Ripley  in  the  course  of  that  long 
gossip. 

The  Captain  stood  gazing  at  her  out  of  the 
window,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  a 
doleful  look  of  bewilderment  on  his  face.  He 
stared  out  into  the  garden,  but  he  was  listening 
to  Mrs.  Delane,  and  wondering  uneasily  if  he 
were  really  such  a  dolt  as  his  hostess  seemed  to 
consider. 

"  You  know,  Gerard,"  said  Mrs.  Delane  in 
her  usual  tone  of  suave  sovereignty,  "that 
I  am  anxious  to  help  you  all  I  can.  I  have 
always  looked  forward  to  it  as  an  event 
which  would  give  us  all  pleasure,  and  I  know 
my  husband  agrees  with  me.  But  really 
we  can't  do  anything  if  you  don't  help  your- 
self." 

The  Captain  gnawed  his  mustache  and 
»hrust  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets. 

"  I  can't  make  her  out,"  said  he.  "  I  can't 
get  any  farther  with  her." 

"  It's  not  the  way  to  '  get  farther,'  "  answered 
Mrs.  Delane,  marking  the  quotation  by  a  deli- 
cate emphasis,  "with  any  girl  to  stand  on  the 
other  side  of  the  room  and  scowl  whenever  she 
talks  to  another  man." 

"  You  mean  Bannister  ?  " 

"  I  mean  anybody.  I  don't  care  whether  it's 
Mr.  Bannister  or  not.  And  it's  just  as  useless 
to  pull  a  long  face  and  look  tragic  whenever 
she  makes  fun  of  you." 


MR.  DELANE  LIKES  THE  IDEA.  1 25 

"  She  didn't  use  to  be  like  that  last  time  I 
was  home." 

"  My  dear  boy,  what  has  that  got  to  do  with 
it  ?     She  was  a  child  then." 

"  She's  always  blowing  me  up.  This  morn- 
ing she  asked  me  why  I  didn't  go  to  India  in- 
stead of  wasting  my  time  doing  nothing  in 
London." 

This  was  certainly  unfeeling  conduct  on 
Janet's  part.     Mrs.  Delane  sighed. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  quite  understand  her 
either,  Gerard.  There's  the  Squire  calling  you. 
He's  ready  to  ride,  I  expect." 

When  Janet  came,  she  found  her  mother 
alone. 

"  Where's  Gerard  .'*  "  she  asked. 

"  He's  gone  for  a  ride." 

"  Is  he  staying  to-night  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  tw'o  or  three  days,  I  think." 

"  Well,  dear,  I  am  glad  we  amuse  him. 
There  doesn't  seem  much  for  a  man  to  do  here, 
does  there  .^  " 

"  Don't  you  like  him  to  be  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  ;  only  he  wastes  my  time." 

"  I  begin  to  think  he's  wasting  his  own  too," 
remarked  Mrs.  Delane. 

"  Oh,  he's  got  nothing  else  to  do  with  it — or 
at  least  he  does  nothing  else  with  it." 

"  You  know  what  I  mean,  Janet,  dear." 

"  I  suppose  I  do,  but  how  can  I  help  it  ?  I 
do  all  I  can  to  show  him  it's  no  use." 

"You  used  to  like  him  very  much." 

"  Oh,  so  I  do  now.  But  that's  quite  differ- 
ent." 


126  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

The  world  goes  very  crooked.  Mrs.  Delane 
sighed  again. 

"  It  would  have  pleased  your  father  very 
much." 

"  I'm  so  sorry.  But  I  couldn't  care  for  a 
man  of  that  sort." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  man,  my 
dear  ?  " 

"That's  just  it,  mamma.  Nothing — nothing 
bad — and  nothing  good.  Gerard  is  like  heaps 
of  men  I  know." 

"  I  think  you  underrate  him.  His  father  was 
just  the  same,  and  he  was  very  distinguished  in 
the  House." 

Janet's  gesture  betrayed  but  slight  venera- 
tion for  the  High  Court  of  Parliament,  as  she 
answered  :  "  They  always  say  that  about  dull 
people." 

"  Well,  if  it's  no  use,  the  sooner  the  poor  boy 
knows  it  the  better." 

"  I  can't  tell  him  till  he  asks  me,  can  I,  dear? 
Though  I'm  sure  he  might  see  it  for  himself." 

Mrs.  Delane,  when  she  made  up  her  mind  to 
sound  her  daughter's  inclinations,  had  expected 
to  find  doubt,  indecision,  perhaps  even  an 
absence  of  any  positive  inclination  toward 
Captain  Ripley.  She  had  not  been  prepared 
for  Janet's  unquestioning  assumption  that  the 
thing  was  not  within  the  range  of  consideration. 
A  marriage  so  excellent  from  a  material  point 
of  view,  with  one  who  enjoyed  all  the  advan- 
tages old  intimacy  and  liking  could  give,  seemed 
to  claim  more  than  the  unhesitating  dismissal 
with  which  Janet  relegated  it  to  the  limbo  of 


MK.  DELANE  LIKES  THE  IDEA.  127 

impossibility,  with  never  a  tliouglit  for  all  the 
prospects  it  held  out,  and  never  a  sigh  for  the 
wealth  and  rank  it  promised.  Of  course  the 
Delanes  needed  no  alliances  to  establish  their 
position  ;  still,  as  the  Squire  had  no  son,  it 
would  have  been  pleasant  if  his  daughter  had 
chosen  a  husband  from  the  leading  family  in 
the  county.  The  more  Mrs.  Delane  thought, 
the  more  convinced  she  became  that  there 
must  be  a  reason  ;  and  if  there  were,  it  could 
be  looked  for  only  in  one  direction.  She 
wondered  whether  the  Squire's  penchant  for 
his  gifted  young  neighbor  was  strong  enough 
to  make  him  welcome  him  as  a  son-in-law. 
Frankly,  her  own  was  not. 

Mr.  Delane  came  in  to  luncheon,  but  Captain 
Ripley  sent  a  message  of  excuse.  He  had 
ridden  over  to  Sir  Harry  Fulmer's,  and  would 
spend  the  afternoon  there.  Mrs.  Delane's  re- 
ception of  the  news  conveyed  delicately  that 
such  conduct  was  only  what  might  be  expected, 
if  one  considered  how  Janet  treated  the  poor 
fellow,  but  the  Squire  was  too  busy  to  appre- 
ciate the  subtleties  of  his  wife's  demeanor. 

Important  events  were  in  the  way  to  happen. 
Denshire,  like  many  other  counties,  had  recently 
made  up  its  mind  that  it  behooved  it  to  educate 
itself,  and  a  building  had  arisen  in  Denborough 
which  was  to  serve  as  an  institute  of  technical 
education,  a  school  of  agriculture,  a  center  of 
learning,  a  home  of  instructive  recreation,  a 
haven  for  the  peripatetic  lecturer,  and  several 
things  besides.  Lord  Cransford  had  consented 
to  open  this  temple  of  the  arts,  which  was  now 


128  A   CHAKGE  OF  AIR. 

near  completion,  and  an  inauguration  by  him 
would  have  been  suitable  and  proper.  But  the 
Squire  had  something  far  better  to  announce. 
The  Lord  Lieutenant  was,  next  month,  to  be 
honored  by  a  visit  from  a  Royal  Duke,  and  the 
Royal  Duke  had  graciously  consented  to  come 
over  and  open  the  Institute.  It  would  be  an 
occasion  the  like  of  which  Denborough  had 
seldom  seen,  and  Lord  Cransford  and  Mr. 
Delane  might  well  be  pardoned  the  deputy- 
providential  air  with  which  they  went  about  for 
the  few  days  next  following  on  the  successful 
completion  of  this  delicate  negotiation. 

"•Now,"  said  the  Squire,  when  he  had  de- 
tailed the  Prince's  waverings  and  vacillations, 
his  he-woulds  and  he-would-nots,  and  the  cul- 
mination of  his  gracious  assent,  "  I  have  a  great 
idea,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me,  Jan." 

"  How  can  I  help  ?  "  asked  Janet,  who  was 
already  in  a  flutter  of  loyalty. 

"When  the  Duke  comes,  I  want  him  to  have 
a  splendid  reception." 

"  I'm  sure  he  will,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Delane  ; 
"at  least  I  hope  that  we  are  loyal." 

"  We  want,"  continued  the  Squire,  "  to  show 
him  all  our  resources." 

"  Well,  papa,  that  won't  take  him  very  long. 
There's   the  old    Mote    Hall,    and  the  Roman 

pavement  and Oh,  but  will  he  come  here, 

papa — to  the  Grange  }  " 

"  I  hope  he  will  take  luncheon  here." 

"  How  delightful !  "  exclaimed  Janet  joyfully. 

"Goodness!"  said  Mrs.  Delane  anxiously. 

"  But,  Jan,  I  want  to  show  hiir>  our  poet ! " 


Mi;.  DELANE  LIKES  THE  IDEA.  129 

"  Papa  !     Mr.  Bannister  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  want  Bannister  to  write  a  poem  of 
welcome." 

"  My  dear,"  remarked  Mrs.  Delane,  "  Mr. 
Bannister  doesn't  like  princes  ;"  and  she  smiled 
satirically. 

"  What  do  you  say,  Jan  }  "  asked  the  Squire, 
smiling  in  his  turn. 

"Oh,  yes,  do  ask  him,  papa.  I  wish  he 
would." 

"  Well,  will  you  ask  him  to  ?  " 

"  Really,  George,  you  are  the  person  to  sug- 
gest it." 

"  Yes,  Mary.     But  if  I  fail  }     Now,  Jan  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  be  foolish  papa.  It's  not 
likely " 

"  Never  mind.     Will  you  ?  " 

But  Janet  had,  it  seemed,  finished  her  meal ; 
at  least  she  had  left  the  room.  Mrs.  Delane 
looked  vexed.  The  Squire  laughed,  for  he  was 
a  man  who  enjoyed  his  little  joke. 

"  Poor  Jan  !  "  he  said.  "  It's  a  shame  to  chaff 
her  on  her  conquests." 

Mrs.  Delane's  fears  had  been  confirmed  by  her 
daughter's  reception  of  the  raillery.  She  would 
have  answered  in  the  same  tone,  and  accepted 
the  challenge,  if  the  banter  had  not  hit  the  mark. 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  Mrs.  Delane,  "  to  encour- 
age her  to  think  so  much  about  this  young 
Bannister." 

"  Eh  ?  "  said  the  Squire,  looking  up  from  his 
plate. 

"  She  thinks  quite  enough  about  him  already, 
and  hears  enough,  too." 


I30  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"Well,  I  suppose  he's  something  out  of  the 
common  run,  in  Denshire  at  all  events,  and  so 
he  interests  her." 

"  She'll  have  nothing  to  say  to  Gerard 
Ripley." 

"  What  ?     Has  he  asked  her  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  I  found  out  from  her.  He's  quite 
indifferent  to  her." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,  but  there's  time  yet.  I 
don't  give  up  hope." 

"  Do  you  think  you  help  your  wishes  by  ask- 
ing her  to  use  her  influence  to  make  Dale  Ban- 
nister write  poems  ?  " 

The  Squire  laid  down  his  napkin  and  looked 
at  his  wife. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  said,  after  a  pause. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Delane.  "  Are  you  sur- 
prised .-* " 

"  Yes,  I  am,  rather." 

He  got  up  and  walked  about  the  room,  jang- 
ling the  money  in  his  pocket. 

"  We  know  nothing  about  young  Bannister," 
he  said. 

"  Except  that  he's  the  son  of  a  Dissenting 
minister  and  has  lived  with  vety  queer  people." 

The  Squire  frowned  ;  but  presently  his  face 
cleared.  "  I  dare  say  we're  trout)ling  ourselves 
quite  unnecessarily.  I  haven't  noticed  any- 
thing." 

"  I  dare  say  not,  George,"  said  Mrs.  Delane. 

"  Come,  Mary,  you  know  it's  a  weakness  of 
yours  to  find  out  people's  love  affairs  before 
they  do  themselves." 

"  Very  well,  George,"  answered  she  in  a  re- 


MR.  DELANE  LIKES  THE  IDEA.  1 31 

signed  tone.  "  I  have  told  you,  and  you  will 
act  as  you  think  best.  Only,  if  you  wouldn't 
like  him  for  a  son-in-law " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  you  do  go  ahead." 

"  Try  to  put  him  out  of  Janet's  head,  not  in 
it  ;  "  and  Mrs.  Delane  swept  out  of  the  room. 

The  Squire  went  to  his  study,  thinking  as  he 
went.  He  would  have  liked  the  Ripley  connec- 
tion. Lord  Cransford  was  an  old  friend,  and 
the    match    would    have   been    unimpeachable. 

Still The  Squire  could  not  quite  analyze 

his  feelings,  but  he  did  feel  that  the  idea  of  Dale 
Bannister  was  not  altogether  unattractive.  By 
birth,  of  course,  he  was  a  nobody,  and  he  had 
done  and  said,  or  at  least  said  he  had  done,  or 
would  like  to  do, — for  the  Squire  on  reflection 
softened  down  his  condemnation, — wild  things; 
but  he  was  a  distinguished  man,  a  man  of  brains, 
a  force  in  the  country.  One  must  move  with 
the  times.  Nowadays  brains  opened  every 
front  door,  and  genius  was  a  passport  every- 
where. He  was  not  sure  that  he  disliked  the 
idea.  Women  were  such  sticklers  for  old 
notions.  Now,  he  had  never  been  a — stick-in- 
the-mud  Tory.  If  Dale  went  on  improving  as 
he  was  doing,  the  Squire  would  think  twice  be- 
fore he  refused  him.  But  there  !  very  likely  it 
was  only  Mary's  match-making  instincts  mak- 
ing a  mountain  out  of  a  molehill, 

"I  shall  keep  at  Jan  about  that  poem,"  he 
ended  by  saying.  *'  It  would  be  a  fine  facer  for 
the  Radicals." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

1bow  flt  SecmeO  to  tbe  Doctor. 


.^^lAMES    ROBERTS   made   to  himself 
^jf^fj  some  excuse  of  business  for  his  sud- 


den expedition  to  London,  but  in 
"^  reality  he  was  moved  to  go  by  the 
desire  for  sympathy.  There  are  times  and 
moods  when  a  man  will  do  many  strange 
things,  if  thereby  he  may  gain  the  comfort  of 
an  approving  voice.  It  was  not  so  much  his 
straitened  means  and  impoverished  household, 
with  the  silent  suppressed  reproach  of  his  wife's 
sad  face,  which  made  Denborough  for  the  time 
uninhabitable  to  the  Doctor.  The  selfishness 
engendered  by  his  absorption  in  outside  affairs 
armed  him  against  these ;  he  was  more 
oppressed,  and  finally  overcome  and  routed  to 
flight,  by  the  universal,  unbroken,  and  unhesi- 
tating condemnation  and  contempt  that  he  met 
with.  The  severe  banned  him  as  wicked,  the 
charitable  dubbed  him  crazy  ;  even  Johnstone, 
whom  he  had  bought,  gave  him  no  sympathy. 
He  could  not  share  his  savage  sneers,  or  his 
bitter  mirth,  or  his  passionate  indignation,  with 
a  man  to  whom  the  whole  affair  was  a  matter 
of  business  or  of  personal  grudge.  He  felt  that 
he  must  escape  for  a  time,  and  seek  society  in 


HOW  IT  SEEMED   TO  THE  DOCTOR.        133 

which  he  could  unbosom  himself  and  speak 
from  his  heart  without  stirring  horror  or  ridi- 
cule. Arthur  Angell  at  least,  who,  in  regard  to 
Dale  and  Dale's  views,  had  always  been  a  better 
royalist  than  the  King,  would  share  his  anger 
and  appreciate  his  meditated  revenge.  The 
lesson  he  meant  to  give  the  backslider  was  so 
appropriate  and  of  such  grim  humor  that  Arthur 
must  be  delighted  with  it. 

On  Dale's  departure,  Arthur  Angell  had 
moved  into  the  little  flat  at  the  top  of  the  tall 
building  in  Chelsea,  and  there  he  cultivated  the 
Muses  with  a  devotion  which  was  its  own  ample 
reward.  Though  to  be  passing  rich  on  forty 
pounds  a  year  is,  with  the  best  will,  impossible 
in  London  as  it  is  to-day,  yet  to  be  passing 
happy  on  one  hundred  and  fifty  is  not  beyond 
the  range  of  youth  and  enthusiasm,  when  the 
future  still  provides  a  gorgeous  setting  and 
background,  wherein  the  sordid  details  of  the 
present  are  merged  and  lose  their  prominence, 
and  all  trials  are  but  landmarks  by  which  the 
hopeful  grub  counts  his  nearer  approach  to 
butterflydom.  The  little  room,  the  humble 
chop,  the  occasional  pit,  the  constant  tobacco, 
the  unending  talks  with  fellows  like-minded  and 
like-pursed — all  these  had  the  beauty  of  liter- 
ary tradition,  and  if  not  a  guarantee,  seemed  at 
least  a  condition  of  future  fame.  So  Arthur 
often  said  to  Mrs.  Hodge,  who  lived  in  the  same 
block,  a  couple  of  floors  lower  down  ;  and  Mrs. 
Hodge  heartily  agreed  as  she  instanced,  in  con- 
firmation of  the  doctrine,  how  the  late  Mr. 
Hodge  had  once  plaj'^ed  the  King  at  two  pound 


134  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

ten,  consule  Pratt,  and  had  lived  to  manage  his 
own  theater.  This  was  to  compare  small  things 
with  great,  felt  Arthur,  but  the  truth  is  true  in 
whatever  sphere  it  works. 

Into  his  happy  life  there  broke  suddenly  the 
tempestuous  form  of  the  Denborougii  Doctor. 
He  arrived  with  but  a  pound  or  two  in  his 
pocket  with  wild  ideas  of  employment  on  ultra- 
Radical  newspapers  ;  above  all,  with  the  full 
load  of  his  rage  against  Dale  Bannister,  the 
traitor.  He  strode  up  and  down  the  little  room, 
tugging  his  beard  and  fiercely  denouncing  the 
renegade,  while  Arthur  looked  at  his  troubled 
eyes  and  knitted  brows,  and  wondered  if  his 
mind  were  not  unhinged.  Who  could  talk  like 
that  about  Dale,  if  he  were  sane  }  Arthur  would 
have  chaffed  his  friend,  laughed  at  him,  ridi- 
culed him,  perhaps  slyly  hinted  at  the  illicit 
charms  of  rank  and  wealth,  for  which  the  poet's 
old  mistress  mourned  deserted.  But  to  speak 
in  hate  and  rancor  !  And  what  was  he  plot- 
ting.? 

But  when  he  heard  the  plot,  his  face  cleared, 
and  he  laughed. 

"  I  think  you're  hard  on  Dale,"  he  said ; 
"but,  after  all,  it  will  be  a  good  joke." 

"Johnstone  will  do  it,"  exclaimed  the  Doctor, 
pausing  in  his  stride.  "  His  shop  window  will 
be  full  of  them.  He'll  have  sandwich-men  all 
over  the  place.  Bannister  won't  be  able  to  go 
out  without  being  met  by  his  own  words — the 
words  he  denies.  I'll  cram  them  down  his 
throat." 

Arthur  laughed  again. 


HOW  IT  SEEMED  TO  THE  DOCTOR.        135 

"  It  will  be  awkward  when  he's  walking  with 
old  Delane." 

"  Aye,  and  with  that  girl  who's  got  hold  of 
him.  He  shan't  forget  what  he  wrote — nor 
shall  a  soul  in  Denborough  either.  I'll  make 
his  treachery  plain,  if  I  spend  my  last  farthing." 

"  When  are  you  going  back  ?  " 

"  In  a  week.  It  will  all  be  ready  in  a  week. 
He'll  know  who  did  it.     Curse  him  ! " 

"My  dear  Doctor,  aren't  you  a  little " 

"  Are  you  like  that,  too.'  "  burst  out  Roberts. 
"Have  none  of  you  any  sincerity  .''  Is  it  sham 
with  all  of  you }  You  laugh  as  if  it  were  a 
joke." 

"  I  can't  be  angry  with  old  Dale.  I  expect 
he'll  only  laugh  himself,  you  know.  It  will  be 
good  fun." 

Roberts  looked  at  him  in  hopeless  wrath.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  these  men,  who  wrote  the 
words  and  proclaimed  the  truths  which  had 
turned  his  life  and  reformed  his  soul,  were 
themselves  but  playing  with  what  they  taught. 
Were  they  only  actors — or  amusing  them- 
selves .'* 

"  You  are  as  bad  as  he  is,"  he  said  angrily, 
and  stalked  out  of  the  room. 

Arthur,  puzzled  with  his  unmanageable 
guest,  went  down,  as  he  often  did,  to  his  neigh- 
bors, and  laid  the  whole  case  before  Mrs. 
Hodge  and  Nellie  Fane.  He  found  them  both 
in,  Nellie  having  just  returned  from  an  after- 
noon concert  where  she  had  been  singing. 

"  I  believe  the  fellow's  half  mad,  you  know," 
said  Arthur. 


136  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  If  he  isn't,  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
himself,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge,  and  she  launched 
on  a  description  of  Mrs.  Robert's  pitiable 
state. 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  that  he's  got  more  than 
five  pounds  in  the  world,"  responded  Arthur. 
"  And  he's  got  no  chance  of  making  any 
money.  Nobody  dares  publish  what  he  wants 
to  write." 

"  He  used  to  be  pleasant  at  Littlehill," 
Nellie  remarked,  "  when  we  were  first  there." 

"Yes,  wasn't  he?  But  he's  gone  quite 
wild  over  Dale.  Do  you  know  what  his  next 
move  is  ?  "  And  Arthur  disclosed  the  John- 
stone conspiracy. 

"  It  will  be  rather  sport,  won't  it  .•'  "  he  asked. 
"  Poor  old  Dale  !  " 

But  no  ;  Miss  Fane  did  not  see  the  "  sport." 
She  was  indignant  ;  she  thought  that  such  a 
trick  was  mean,  malicious,  and  odious  in  the 
highest  degree,  and  she  was  surprised  that 
Arthur  Angel!  could  be  amused  at  it. 

"  Women  never  see  a  joke,"  said  Arthur 
huffily. 

"Where's  the  joke  in  making  Dale  unhappy 
and — and  absurd  ?  And  you  call  yourself  his 
friend  ! " 

"  It's  only  a  joke.  Old  Dale  docs  deserve  a 
dig,  you  know." 

"  And  pray,  why  ?  You  choose  your  friends, 
why  mayn't  he  choose  his?  I  dare  say  you 
would  be  glad  enough  to  know  that  sort  of 
people  if  you  could." 

"Oh,    come,    Nellie!     I'm    not    like    that. 


HOll^  IT  SEEMED  TO   THE  DOCTOR.        IJ7 

Besides,    it's    not    the   people;    it's    what    he's 
written." 

"  I've  read  wliat  he's  written.  It's  beautiful. 
No,  I  call  the  whole  thing  horrid,  and  just  like 
Dr.  Roberts." 

"  I  suppose  you  think,  just  like  me,  too  .''  " 

"  If  you  don't  w^ite  and  warn  Dale,  I  shall." 

"  I  say,  you  mustn't  do  that.     I   told  you  in 
confidence.     Roberts  will  be  furious." 
•   "  What  do  I  care  for  Dr.  Roberts'  fury  }     I 
shall  write  at  once  ;  "  and  she  sat  down  at  the 
table. 

Arthur  glanced  in  despair  at  Mrs.  Hodge, 
but  that  discreet  lady  was  entirely  hidden  in 
the  evening  paper. 

"Well,  I'll  never  tell  you  anything  again, 
Nellie,"  he  said. 

"  You'll  never  have  the  chance,  unless  you 
behave  something  like  a  gentleman,"  retorted 
Nellie. 

Arthur  banged  the  door  as  he  went  out, 
exclaiming : 

"  Damn  Roberts  !  What  does  he  want  to 
make  a  row  for  }  " 

Meanwhile,  the  Doctor,  who  was  angry 
enough  with  Arthur  Angell  to  have  rejoiced 
had  he  known  that  he  had  embroiled  him  in  a 
quarter  where  Arthur  was  growing  very  anxious 
to  stand  well,  was  pacing  the  streets,  nursing 
his  resentment.  His  head  ached,  and  fragments 
of  w-hat  he  had  read,  and  half-forgotten  con- 
versations, mingling  in  his  whirling  brain, 
fretted  and  bewildered  him.  He  could  think 
of  nothing  but   his  wrongs   and   his   revenge, 


138  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

returning  always  to  hug  himself  on  his  own 
earnestness,  and  angrily  to  sneer  at  the  weak- 
ness and  treacliery  of  his  friends.  Whatever  it 
cost  him  or  his,  the  world  should  see  that  there 
was  one  man  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  for 
truth  and  right — and  punish  "  that  hound  Dale 
Bannister." 

As  he  walked,  he  bought  the  special  edition 
of  the  paper,  and,  in  hastily  glancing  at  it,  his 
eye  was  caught  by  the  announcement  that  His 
Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Mercia  was  to 
visit  Lord  Cransford,  and  would  open  the  In- 
stitute at  Market  Denborough.  The  paragraph 
went  on  to  describe  the  preparations  being 
made  to  give  the  Prince  a  loyal  reception,  and 
ended  by  saying  that  it  was  hoped  that  the 
eminent  poet,  Mr,  Dale  Bannister,  who  was 
resident  at  Denborough,  would  consent  to  write 
a  few  lines  of  welcome  to  the  illustrious  visitor. 
The  writer  added  a  word  or  two  of  good-natured 
banter  about  Mr.  Bannister's  appearance  in  a 
new  character,  and  the  well-known  effect  which 
the  proximity  of  royalty  was  apt  to  have  on 
English  republicanism.  "  Who  knows,"  he 
concluded,  "  that  Mr.  Bannister  may  not  figure 
as  Sir  Dale  before  long  .-*  " 

The  Doctor  read  the  paragraph  twice,  the 
flush  of  anger  reddening  his  pale  face.  Then 
he  crumpled  up  the  paper  and  flung  it  from 
him,  resuming  his  hasty,  restless  walk.  He 
could  imagine  the  sickening  scene,  the  rampant 
adulation,  the  blatant  snobbishness.  And,  in 
the  midst,  a  dishonored  participator,  the  man 
who   had    been    his   leader,    his    liberator,    the 


HOW  IT  SEEMED  TO  THE  DOCTOR.        139 

apostle  of  all  he  loved  and  lived  by.  Had  the 
man  been  a  hypocrite  from  the  first?  Impossi- 
ble !  No  hypocrite  could  have  written  those 
burning  lines  which  leaped  to  his  memory  and 
his  lips.  Or  was  he  merely  a  weak  fool  }  That 
could  not  be  either.  It  was  a  barter,  a  deliberate 
barter  of  truth  and  honor  against  profit — as 
sordid  a  transaction  as  could  be.  He  wanted  a 
position  in  society,  money,  a  rich  wife,  petting 
from  great  people — perhaps  even,  as  that  scrib- 
bler said,  a  ribbon  to  stick  in  his  coat  or  a  handle 
to  fasten  to  his  name.  How  could  he  ?  how 
could  he  ?  And  the  Doctor  passed  his  hand 
across  his  hot,  throbbing  brow  in  the  bewilder- 
ment of  wrath. 

For  an  hour  and  more  he  ranged  the  streets 
aimlessly,  a  prey  to  his  unreasoning  fury.  For 
this  man's  sake  he  had  ruined  himself ;  led  on 
by  this  man's  words,  he  had  defied  the  world — 
his  world.  At  all  hazards  he  had  joined  the 
daring  band.  Now  he  was  forsaken,  aban- 
doned, flung  aside.  He  and  his  like  had  served 
their  turn.  On  their  backs  Dale  Bannister  had 
mounted.  But  now  he  had  done  with  them, 
and  their  lot  was  repudiation  and  disdain. 
Roberts  could  not  find  words  for  his  scorn  and 
contempt.  His  head  racked  him  more  and 
more.  Connected  thought  seemed  to  become 
impossible ;  he  could  do  nothing  but  repeat 
again  and  again,  "  The  traitor  !     The  traitor !  " 

At  last  he  turned  home  to  his  humble  lodg- 
ings. The  short  hush  of  very  early  morning 
had  fallen  on  the  streets  ;  he  met  no  one,  and 
the  moon  shone  placidly  down  on  the  solitary 


I40  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

figure  of  the  maddened  man,  wrestling  with  his 
unconquerable  rage.  He  could  not  stem  it ; 
yielding  to  its  impulse,  with  quivering  voice  and 
face  working  with  passion,  he  stretched  his 
clenched  fist  to  the  sky  and  cried  : 
"  By  God,  he  shall  pay  for  it !  " 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"mo  ^ore  Ikings." 

FTER  her  father's  report  and  the 
departure  of  Nellie  Fane,  Miss  Tora 
Smith  had  been  pleased  to  reconsider 
her  judgment  of  Dale  Bannister,  and 
to  modify  it  to  some  extent.  The  poems  and 
the  suspicion,  taken  in  conjunction,  each  casting 
a  lurid  light  on  the  other,  had  been  very  bad 
indeed  ;  but  when  Tora's  mind  was  disabused 
of  the  suspicion,  she  found  it  in  her  heart  to 
pardon  the  poems.  Although  she  treated  Sir 
Harry  Fulmer  with  scant  ceremony,  she  had  no 
small  respect  for  his  opinion,  and  when  he  and 
the  Colonel  coincided  in  the  decision  that  Dale 
need  not  be  ostracized,  she  did  not  persist 
against  them.  She  was  led  to  be  more  com- 
pliant by  the  fact  that  she  was  organizing  an 
important  Liberal  gathering,  and  had  conceived 
the  ambition  of  inducing  Dale  to  take  part  in 
the  proceedings. 

"  Fancy,  if  he  would  write  us  a  song  !  "  she 
said  ;  "  a  song  which  we  could  sing  in  chorus. 
Wouldn't  it  be  splendid  ?  " 

"  What  would  the  Squire  say  ?  "  asked  Sir 
Harry. 

Tora  smiled  mischievously. 


142  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Are  you,"  she  deinanded,  "  going  to  stand 
by  and  see  him  captured  by  the  Grange  ?  " 

"He  ought  to  be  with  us,  oughtn't  he?" 
said  Sir  Harry. 

"  Of  course.  And  if  our  leader  had  an  ounce 
of  zeal " 

"  I'll  write  to  him  to-day,"  said  Sir  Harry. 

"  Yes  ;  and  mind  you  persuade  him.  I  shall 
be  so  amused  to  see  what  Jan  Delane  says,  if 
he  writes  us  a  song." 

"  He  won't  do  it." 

"  He  won't,  if  you  go  in  that  despairing 
mood.  Now  write  at  once.  Write  as  if  you 
expected  it." 

The  outcome  of  this  conversation,  together 
with  the  idea  which  had  struck  the  Squire,  was, 
of  course,  that  Dale  received,  almost  by  the 
same  post,  an  urgent  request  for  a  militant 
Radical  ditty,  and  a  delicate,  but  very  flattering, 
suggestion  that  it  would  be  most  agreeable  to 
His  Royal  Highness — indeed  he  had  hinted  as 
much  in  response  to  Lord  Cransford's  ques- 
tion— to  find  the  loyalty  of  Denborough,as  it 
were,  crystallized  in  one  of  Mr.  Bannister's  un- 
dying productions.  For  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  Dale  felt  a  grudge  against  the  Muses  for 
their  endowment.  Could  not  these  people  let 
him  alone  .'  He  did  not  desire  to  put  himself 
forward  ;  he  only  asked  to  be  let  alone.  It  was 
almost  as  repugnant  to  him— at  least,  he 
thought  it  would  be— to  take  part  in  Lord 
Cransford's  pageant,  as  it  certainly  would  be  to 
hear  the  Radicals  of  Denborough  screeching 
out  his  verses.     He  was  a  man  of  letters,  not  a 


politician,  and  he  thought  both  requests  very 
uncalled  for.  It  might  be  that  the  Grange  folks 
had  some  claim  on  him,  but  his  acquaintance 
with  Sir  Harry  Fulmer  was  of  the  slightest;  and 
what  did  the  man  mean  by  talking  of  his  "  well- 
known  views  "  ?  He  was  as  bad  as  the  Doctor 
himself.  Presently  Philip  Hume  came  in,  and 
Dale  disclosed  his  perplexities. 

"  I  want  to  please  people,"  he  said,  "  but  this 
is  rather  strong." 

"  Write  both,"  suggested  Philip. 

"That  will  enrage  both  of  them." 

"  Then  write  neither." 

"  Really,  Phil,  you  might  show  some  interest 
in  the  matter." 

"  I  am  preoccupied.  Have  you  been  in  the 
town  to-day,  Dale  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Then  you  haven't  seen  Johnstone's  win- 
dow ?  " 

"  Johnstone's  window  ?  What  does  John- 
stone want  with  a  window  ?  " 

"  Put  on  your  hat  and  come  and  see.  Yes, 
come  along.     It  concerns  you." 

They  walked  down  together  in  the  gathering 
dusk  of  the  afternoon,  and  when  they  came 
near  Johnstone's,  they  saw  his  window  lighted 
with  a  blaze  of  gas,  and  a  little  knot  of  curious 
people  standing  outside.  The  window  was  full 
of  Dale's  books,  and  the  rows  of  green  volumes 
were  surmounted  by  a  large  placard — "  Dale 
Bannister,  the  poet  of  Denborough — Works  on 
Sale  Here.  Ask  for  '  The  Clarion,'  '  The  Arch 
Apostates,'  'Blood  for  Blood  '  ";  and  outside,  a 


144  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

file  of  men  carried  boards,  headed,  "  The 
Rights  of  the  People.  Read  Dale  Bannister  ! 
No  more  Kings !  No  more  Priests  !  Read 
Dale  Bannister  !  " 

A  curse  broke  from  Dale.  Philip  smiled 
grimly. 

"  Who's  done  this  }  "  Dale  asked. 

Philip  pointed  to  a  solitary  figure  which  stood 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road,  looking  on  at 
the  spectacle.  It  was  James  Roberts,  and  he 
smiled  grimly  in  his  turn  when  he  saw  the  poet 
and  his  friend. 

"He  put  Johnstone  up  to  it,"  said  Philip. 
"Johnstone  told  me  so." 

Dale  was  aflame.  He  strode  quickly  across 
the  road  to  where  the  Doctor  stood,  and  said  to 
him  hotly  : 

"  This  is  your  work,  is  it  ?  " 

The  Doctor  was  jaunty  and  cool  in  manner. 

"  No,  your  works,"  he  answered,  with  a 
foolish,  exasperating  snigger.  "  Aren't  you 
pleased  to  see  what  notice  they  are  attracting? 
I  was  afraid  they  were  being  forgotten  in 
Denborough." 

"  God  only  knows,"  said  Dale  angrily,  "why 
you  take  pleasure  in  annoying  me ;  but  I  have 
borne  enough  of  your  insolence." 

"  Is  it  insolent  to  spread  the  sale  of  your 
books .''  " 

"  You  will  make  your  jackal  take  those  books 
down  and  stop  his  infernal  posters,  or  I'll  thrash 
you  within  an  inch  of  your  life." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Roberts,  and  his  hand  stole 
toward  his  breast-pocket. 


''NO  MORE  KINGSy  145 

"  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  say  that  if  I  can  make  a  wretched  snob 
Hke  you  unhappy,  it's  money  well  spent,  and 
I'll  see  you  damned  before  1  take  the  books 
down." 

Dale  grasped  his  walking-cane  and  took  a 
step  forward.  The  Doctor  stood  waiting  for 
him,  smiling  and  keeping  his  hand  in  his 
pocket. 

"Jim!" 

The  Doctor  turned  and  saw  his  wife  at  his 
side.  Dale  fell  back,  lifting  his  hat,  at  the  sight 
of  the  pale  distressed  face  and  clasped  hands. 

"  Do  come  home,  dear  !  "  she  said,  with  an 
appealing  glance. 

Philip  took  Dale's  arm. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  let's  reason  with  John- 
stone." 

Dale  allowed  himself  to  be  led  away,  not 
knowing  that  death  had  stared  him  in  the  face  ; 
for  it  was  a  loaded  revolver  that  Roberts  let  fall 
back  into  the  recesses  of  his  pocket  when  his 
wife's  touch  recalled  for  a  moment  his  saner 
sense. 

The  reasoning  with  Johnstone  was  not  a 
success.  Dale  tried  threats,  abuse,  and  en- 
treaties, all  in  vain.  At  last  he  condescended 
to  bribery,  and  offered  Johnstone  twice  the  sum, 
whatever  it  might  be,  which  he  had  received. 
He  felt  his  degradation,  but  the  annoyance  was 
intolerable. 

The  Alderman's  attitude,  on  receiving  this 
offer,  was  not  without  pathos.  He  lamented  in 
himself  an  obstinate  rectitude,  which  he  declared 


M6  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

had  often  stood  in  his  way  in  business  affairs. 
His  political  convictions,  engaged  as  they  were 
in  the  matter,  he  would  have  sacrificed,  if  the 
favor  thereby  accorded  to  Mr.  Bannister  were 
so  great  as  to  be  measured  by  two  hundred 
pounds ;  but  he  had  passed  his  word  ;  and  he 
concluded  by  beseeching  Dale  not  to  tempt  him 
above  that  which  he  was  able. 

"  Take  it  away,  take  it  away,  sir,"  he  said 
when  Dale  held  a  pocketbook  before  his  long- 
ing eyes.  "  It  aint  right,  sir,  it  aint  indeed— 
and  me  a  family  man." 

Dale  began  to  feel  the  guilt  of  the  Tempter, 
and  fell  back  on  an  appeal  to  the  Alderman's 
better  feelings.  This  line  of  argument  elicited 
only  a  smile. 

"  If  I  won't  do  it  for  two  hundred  sovereigns, 
does  it  stand  to  reason,  sir,  as  I  should  do  it  to 
obleege .'' " 

Dale  left  him,  after  a  plain  statement  of  the 
estimation  in  which  he  held  him,  and  went 
home,  yielding,  only  after  i  struggle,  to  Philip's 
representation  that  any  attempt  to  bribe  the 
sandwich-men  must  result  in  his  own  greater 
humiliation  and  discomfiture. 

Angry  as  Dale  was,  he  determined  not  to 
allow  this  incident  to  turn  him  from  the  course 
he  had  marked  out  for  himself.  It  confirmed 
his  determination  to  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Sir  Harry's  Radical  song,  but  it  did  not  make 
him  any  the  more  inclined  to  appear  as  a 
eulogist  of  royalty.  Neutrality  in  all  political 
matters  was  his  chosen  course,  and  it  appeared 
to  him  to  be  incomparably  the  wisest  under  all 


"  NO  MORE  KINGSr  147 

the  circumstances.  This  view  he  expressed  to 
the  family  at  the  Grange,  having  walked  over 
for  that  purpose.  He  expected  to  meet  with 
some  opposition,  but  to  his  surprise  the  Squire 
heartily  acquiesced. 

"  After  this  scandalous  business,"  he  said, 
"you  must  cut  the  Radicals  altogether.  Of 
course,  Harry  Fulmer  will  object  to  it  as  much 
as  we  do,  but  he  must  be  responsible  for  his 
followers.  And  I  think  you're  quite  right  to 
let  us  alone,  too.  Why  should  you  literary  men 
bother  with  politics  .''  " 

Dale  was  delighted  at  this  opinion,  and  at 
Janet's  concurrence  with  it. 

"  Then  I  dare  say  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to 
express  my  feehngs  to  Lord  Cransford  ;  if  he 
thinks  fit,  he  can  let  the  Duke  know  them." 

The  Squire's  face  expressed  surprise,  and  his 
daughter's  reflected  it. 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Delane, 
"  what  has  Cransford's  suggestion  to  do  with 
poUtics  ?     The  throne  is  above  politics." 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Bannister,"  added  Janet,  "  we 
are  all  loyal,  whatever  our  politics.''  I'm  sure 
Sir  Harry  himself  is  as  loyal  as  papa." 

"  Come,  Bannister,  you  press  your  scruples 
too  far.     There  are  no  politics  in  this." 

Dale  was  staggered,  but  not  convinced. 

"  I'd  rather  not  put  myself  forward  at  all," 
he  said. 

The  Squire  assumed  an  air  of  apologetic 
friendliness. 

"I  know  you'll  excuse  me,  Bannister.  I'm 
twice  your  age  or  more,  and  I — well — I  haven't 


148  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

been  so  lucky  as  you  in  escaping  the  world  of 
etiquette.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  when  the  Duke 
sends  a  message— it  really  comes  to  that — it's 
a  strongish  thing  to  say  you  won't  do  it.  Oh, 
of  course,  you  can  if  you  like — there's  no 
beheading  nowadays ;  but  it's  not  very 
usual." 

"  I  wish  Lord  Cransford  had  never  mentioned 
me  to  the  Duke  at  all." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  wiser,"  the 
Squire  conceded  candidly,  "  but  Cransford  is 
so  proud  of  anything  that  brings  kudos  to  the 
county,  and  he  could  no  more  leave  you  out 
than  he  could  the  Institute  itself.  Well,  we 
mustn't  force  you.  Think  it  over,  think  it  over. 
I  must  be  off.  No,  don't  you  go.  Stay  and  have 
tea  with  the  ladies;  "  and  the  Squire,  who,  as 
has  been  previously  mentioned,  was  no  fool,  left 
his  daughter  to  entertain  his  guest. 

Janet  was  working  at  a  piece  of  embroidery, 
and  she  went  on  working  in  silence  for  a  minute 
or  two.     Then  she  looked  up  and  said  : 

"  Tora  Smith  was  here  this  morning.  She'll 
be  very  disappointed  at  your  refusal  to  write 
for  her  meeting." 

"  Miss  Smith  has  no  claim  on  me,"  said  Dale 
stiffly.  He  had  not  forgotten  Tora's  injurious 
suspicions.  "  Besides,  one  doesn't  do  such 
things  simply  for  the  asking — not  even  if  it's  a 
lady  who  asks." 

"  You  know,  I  don't  think  anybody  ought  to 
ask — no,  not  princes;  and  I  hope  you  won't  do 
what  Lord  Cransford  wants  merely  because 
you're  asked." 


"  NO  MORE  kings:'  149 

"  Your  father  says  I  ought." 

"  Papa  wants  you  to  do  it  very  much." 

"  And  I  should  Hke  to  do  what  he  wants." 

"  I  should  like  you  to  do  what  he  wants,  but 
not  because  he  wants  it,"  said  Janet. 

Dale  turned  round  to  her  and  said  abruptly  : 

"  I'll  do  it,  if  you  want  me  to." 

Now  this  was  flattering,  and  Janet  could  not 
deny  that  it  gave  her  pleasure  ;  but  she  clung 
to  her  principles. 

"  I  don't  want  it — in  that  sense,"  she  answered. 
"  I  should  be  glad  if  it  seemed  to  you  a  right 
thing  to  do  ;  but  I  should  be  sorry  if  you  did  it, 
unless  it  did." 

"  You  will  not  let  me  do  it  for  you  }  " 
*  "  No,"  she  answered,  smiling. 

"  You  have  no  pleasure  in  obedience  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  only  in  willing  obedience,"  said  she, 
with  a  smile. 

"  It  would  be  very  willing — even  eager." 

"  The  motive  would  not  be  right.  But  how 
absurd  !     I  believe " 

"  Well,  what  ?  " 

"  That  you  mean  to  do  it,  and  are  trying  to 
kill  two  birds  w'ith  one  stone." 

"  You  don't  really  think  that,  Miss  Delane.?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  Only  you  were  becom- 
ing so  serious." 

"  May  I  not  be  serious  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  serious  to  offer  to  take  important 
steps  because  it  would  please  a  girl." 

"  Aren't  you  rather  contradicting  yourself  ? 
You  called  that  becoming  serious  just  now." 

"  If  I  am,  it  is  a  privilege  we  all  have." 


ISO  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Girls,  you  mean  ?  Well,  you  refuse  to  help 
me?  " 

"  Entirely." 

"  Even  to  counteract  Miss  Smith's  illicit 
influence  ?  " 

"  I  shall  trust  to  your  own  sense  of  propriety," 

Dale  walked  home,  grievously  puzzled.  A 
small  matter  may  raise  a  great  issue,  and  he 
felt,  perhaps  without  full  reason,  that  he  was  at 
the  parting  of  the  ways.  "  No  more  Kings  !  No 
more  Priests!"  Or  "An  Ode  to  H.  R.  H.  the 
Duke  of  Mercia  on  his  visit  to  Denborough  "  ! 
Dale  ruefully  admitted  that  there  would  be 
ground  for  a  charge  of  inconsistency.  Some 
would  talk  of  conversion,  some  of  tergiversation  : 
he  could  not  make  up  his  mind  which  accusation 
would  be  the  more  odious.  There  was  clearly 
nothing  for  it  but  absolute  neutrality;  he  must 
refuse  botli  requests.  Janet  would  understand 
why  ;  of  course  she  would,  she  must  ;  and  even  if 
she  did  not,  what  was  that  to  him  }  The  throne 
above  politics  ! — that  must  be  a  mere  sophism  ; 
there  could  not  be  anything  in  that.  No  doubt 
this  young  Prince  was  not  morally  responsible 
for  the  evils,  but  he  personified  the  system,  and 
Dale  could  not  bow  the  knee  before  him.  If  it 
had  been  possible — and  as  he  went  he  began  idly 
to  frame  words  for  an  ode  of  welcome.  An  idea 
or  two,  a  very  ha])py  turn,  came  into  his  head  ; 
he  knew  exactly  the  tone  to  take,  just  how  far 
to  go,  just  the  mean  that  reconciles  deference  to 
independence.  He  had  the  whole  thing  mapped 
out  before  he  recalled  to  himself  the  thought 
that  he  was  not  going  to  write  at  all,  and  as 


' '  NO  MORE  KINGS. "  1 5 1 

he  entered  his  own  garden  he  sighed  at  the 
necessary  relinquishing  of  a  stately  couplet. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  work  of  that  class 
opened  a  new  field,  a  hitherto  virgin  soil,  to 
his  genius.     It  was  a  great  pity. 

In  the  garden,  to  his  surprise,  he  came  on 
Arthur  Angell.  "  What  brings  you  here, 
Arthur?"  he  said.  "Delighted  to  see  you, 
though." 

Arthur  explained  that  he  had  run  down  at 
Nellie  Fane's  bidding.  Nellie  had  written  her 
letter  of  warning  about  the  Doctor's  conspiracy, 
but,  having  thus  relieved  her  mind,  had  straight- 
way forgotten  all  about  her  letter,  and  it  had 
lain  unposted  in  her  pocket  for  a  week.  Then 
she  found  it,  and  sent  Authur  off  in  haste  to 
stop  the  mischief. 

"  It's  awfully  kind  of  Nellie,"  said  Dale  ;  "  but 
I  don't  suppose  it  would  have  been  of  any  use, 
and  anyhow  it's  too  late  now." 

"  Yes,  so  Phil  told  me," 

"  A  dirty  trick,  isn't  it .''  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it's  rather  rough  on  you," 
said  Arthur,  struggling  between  principles  and 
friendship,  and  entirely  suppressing  his  own 
privity  to  the  said  dirty  trick. 

"  You'll  stay  }  " 

"  I've  got  no  clothes." 

"  Oh,  Wilson  will  see  to  that.     Come  in." 

Philip  met  them  at  the  door. 

"  I've  a  message  for  you,  Dale,"  he  said. 
"  The  Mayor  has  been  here." 

"  And  what  may  the  Mayor  want  ?  " 

"  The  Mayor  came  as  an  ambassador.     He 


152  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

bore  a  resolution  from  the  Town  Council,  a 
unanimous  resolution  {absente  Johnstone  owing 
to  pressure  in  the  bookselling  trade),  begging 
you  to  accede  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  request 
and  write  a  poem  for  the  Duke." 

"  Hang  the  Town  Council !  "  exclaimed  Dale, 
"  I  wonder  why  nobody  will  let  me  alone  !  " 

Then  he  remembered  that  Miss  Delane  had 
been  almost  ostentatious  in  her  determination 
to  let  him  alone.  If  he  wrote,  they  could  not 
say  that  he  had  written  to  please  her.  But  he 
was  not  going  to  write.  True,  it  would  have 
been  a  good  revenge  on  the  Doctor,  and  it 
would  have  pleased 

"  Shall  you  do  the  ode  ?  "  asked  Philip  Hume, 

"  Certainly  not,"  answered  Dale  in  a  resoluHe 
tone. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
Dale  XLxlce  Ibis  IbanO  at  an  ©De. 

ALE'S  preoccupations  with  his  new 
friends  had  thrown  on  Philip  Hume 
the  necessity  of  seeking  society  for 
himself,  if  he  did  not  wish  to  spend 
many  solitary  evenings  at  Littlehill,  The  re- 
sources of  Denborough  were  not  very  great, 
and  his  dissipation  generally  took  the  form  of 
a  quiet  dinner,  followed  by  a  rubber  of  whist, 
at  Mount  Pleasant.  The  Colonel  and  he  suited 
one  another,  and,  even  if  Philip  had  been 
less  congenial  in  temper,  the  Colonel  was  often 
too  hard  put  to  it  for  a  fourth  player  to  be 
nice  in  scrutinizing  the  attractions  of  anyone 
who  could  he  trusted  to  answer  a  call  and  ap- 
preciate the  strategy  of  a  long  suit.  Even  with 
Philip's  help  the  rubber  was  not  a  brilliant  one  ; 
for  Tora  only  played  out  of  filial  duty,  and  Sir 
Harry  came  in  to  join  because  it  was  better  to 
be  with  Tora  over  a  whist-table  than  not  to  be 
with  her  at  all.  That  he  thought  so  witnessed 
the  intensity  of  his  devotion,  for  to  play  whist 
seemed  to  Sir  Harry  to  be  going  out  of  one's 
way  to  seek  trouble  and  perplexity  of  mind. 

On  the  evening  of  Arthur  Angell's  arrival  the 
usual  party  had  dined  together  and  set  to  work. 


154  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Things  were  not  going  well.  At  dinner  they 
had  discussed  the  royal  visit,  and  the  Colonel 
had  been  disgusted  to  find  that  his  daughter, 
unmindful  of  her,  or  rather  his,  principles,  was 
eager  to  see  and,  if  it  might  be,  to  speak  with 
"  this  young  whippersnapper  of  a  Prince." 
The  Colonel  could  not  understand  such  a  state 
of  feeling,  but  Tora  was  firm.  All  the  county 
would  be  there  in  new  frocks  ;  she  had  ordered 
a  new  frock,  of  which  she  expected  great  things, 
and  she  meant  to  be  there  in  it ;  it  would  not 
do,  she  added,  for  the  Duke  to  think  that  the 
Radicals  had  no  pretty  girls  on  their  side.  The 
Colonel  impatiently  turned  to  Sir  Harry  ;  but 
Sir  Harry  agreed  with  Tora,  and  even  Philip 
Hume  announced  his  intention  of  walking  down 
High  Street  to  see,  not  the  Prince  of  course,  but 
the  people  and  the  humors  of  the  day. 

"  Really,  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  I  cannot  miss 
the  Mayor." 

"  Are  we  going  to  have  a  rubber  or  not  ?  " 
asked  the  Colonel  with  an  air  of  patient  weari- 
ness. 

They  sat  down,  Sir  Harry  being  his  host's 
partner.  Now,  Sir  Harry  was,  and  felt  himself 
to  be,  in  high  favor,  owing  to  his  sound  views 
on  the  question  of  the  day,  and  he  was  thinking 
of  anything  in  the  world  rather  than  the  fall  of 
the  cards.  Consequently  his  play  was  marked 
by  somewhat  more  th.nn  its  ordinary  atrocious- 
ness,  and  the  Colonel  grew  redder  and  redder 
as  every  scheme  he  cherished  was  nipped  in  the 
bud  by  his  partner's  blunders.  Tora  and  Philip 
held    all    the   cards,   and    their  good    fortune 


DALE  TRIES  HIS  HAND  AT  AN  ODE.       155 

covered  Tor.i's  deficiency  in  sl<il!,  and  made 
Piiilip's  sound  game  seem  a  brilliant  one. 

At  last  the  Colonel  could  bear  it  no  longer. 
He  broke  up  the  party,  and  challenged  Philip  to 
a  game  of  piquet. 

"  At  any  rate,  one  hasn't  a  partner  at  piquet," 
he  said. 

Sir  Harry  smiled,  and  followed  Tora  to  the 
drawing  room.  With  such  rewards  for  bad 
play,  who  would  play  well  .-*  He  sat  down  by 
her  and  watched  her  making  spills.  Presently 
he  began  to  make  spills  too.  Tora  looked  at 
him.  Sir  Harry  made  a  very  bad  spill  indeed, 
and  held  it  up  with  a  sigh. 

"  That's  the  sort  of  thing,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
to  light  my  pipe  with  at  home  !  " 

"  As  you've  been  very  good  to-night," 
answered  Tora,  "  I'll  give  you  some  of  mine  to 
take  with  you.  Let  me  show  you  how  to  do 
them  for  yourself." 

Then  ensued  trivialities  which  bear  happen- 
ing better  than  they  do  recording — glances  and 
touches  and  affectations  of  stupidity  on  one  side 
and  impatience  on  the  other — till  love's  ushers, 
their  part  fulfilled,  stand  by  to  let  their  master 
speak,  and  the  hidden  seriousness,  which  made 
the  trifles  not  trifling,  leaps  to  sudden  light. 
Before  her  lover's  eager  rush  of  words,  his 
glorifying  of  her,  his  self-depreciation,  Tora  was 
defenseless,  her  raillery  was  gone,  and  she 
murmured  nothing  but  : 

"  You're  noi  stupid — you're  not  dull.  Oh, 
how  can  you ! " 

Before  he  set  out  for  home  Philip  Hume  was 


156  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

privileged  to  hear  the  fortunate  issue,  and  to 
wonder  how  much  happiness  two  faces  can 
manage  to  proclaim.  Kindly  as  the  little  family 
party  took  him  into  their  confidence,  he  has- 
tened away,  knowing  that  he  had  no  place 
there.  Such  joys  were  not  for  him,  he  thought, 
as  he  walked  slowly  from  the  door,  remember- 
ing how  once  he  had  challenged  impossibility, 
and  laid  his  love  at  a  girl's  feet ;  and  she,  too, 
had  for  a  moment  forgotten  impossibility  ;  and 
they  were  very  happy — for  a  moment  ;  then 
they  recollected — or  had  it  recollected  for  them 
— that  they  were  victims  of  civilization.  And 
hence  an  end.  Philip  recalled  this  incident  as 
he  walked.  He  had  not  thought  of  it  for  a 
long  time,  but  the  air  of  Denborough  seemed 
so  full  of  love  and  love-making  that  he  spared 
a  sigh  or  two  for  himself.  Well  born  and  well 
educated,  he  wrung  from  the  world,  by  painful 
labor,  some  three  or  four  hundred  pounds  a 
year.  It  was  enough  if  he  had  not  been 
well  born  or  well  educated  ;  but  his  advantages 
turned  to  disabilities,  and  he  saw  youth  going 
or  gone,  and  the  home  and  the  love  which  had 
been  so  confidently  assumed  as  his  lot,  that 
even  as  a  boy  he  had  joked  and  been  joked 
about  them,  faded  away  from  his  picture  of  the 
future,  and  he  was  only  kept  from  a  sigh  of 
self-pity  by  reminding  himself  of  the  ludicrous 
conimonplaceness  of  his  grievance  against  fate. 
He  knew  men  so  situated  by  dozens,  and  no- 
body thought  them  ill  used.  No  more  they 
were,  he  supposed  ;  at  least,  it  seemed  nobody's 
fault,  and,  in  view  of  sundry  other  sad  things 


DALE  TRIES  HIS  HAND  AT  AN  ODE.       157 

in  the  world,  not  a  matter  to  make  a  fuss 
about. 

He  found  Dale  in  high  spirits  ;  for  Dale  had 
conceived  a  benevolent  scheme,  by  which  he 
was  to  make  two  of  his  friends  happy — as  happy 
as  Tora  Smith  and  Harry  Fulmer,  the  news  of 
whom  he  heard  with  the  distant  interest  to 
which  Tora's  bygone  hostility  restricted  him. 
He  and  Arthur  Angell  had  dined  together, 
smoked  together,  and  drunk  whisky  and  water 
together,  and  the  floodgates  of  confidence  had 
been  opened ;  a  thing  prone  to  occur  under 
such  circumstances,  a  thing  that  seems  then 
very  natural,  and  reserves  any  appearance  of 
strangeness  for  next  morning's  cold  medita- 
tions. Dale  had  chanted  Janet's  charms,  and 
Arthur  had  been  emboldened  to  an  antistrophe 
in  praise  of  Nellie  Fane.  It  was  a  revelation 
to  Dale — a  delightful  revelation.  It  would  be 
ideally  suitable,  and  it  was  his  pleasure  that  the 
happy  issue  should  be  forwarded  by  all  legiti- 
mate means. 

"  Arthur's  going  to  stay,"  he  said  ;  "  and  I've 
written  to  Nellie  to  tell  her  to  come  down  with 
her  mother." 

"  Ah ! " 

"  Of  course,  I've  said  nothing  about  Arthur. 
I've  put  it  on  the  royal  visit.  She'd  like  to  be 
here  for  that  anyhow;  and  when  she's  here, 
Arthur  must  look  out  for  himself." 

"  Why  couldn't  he  do  it  in  London  }  They 
live  on  the  same  pair  of  stairs,"  objected 
Philip. 

"  Oh,  London  !  who  the  deuce  could  make 


158  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

love  in  London  ?  "  asked  Dale  in  narrow-minded 
ignorance.  "  People's  faces  are  always  dirty  in 
London." 

Philip  smiled,  but  this  new  plan  seemed  to 
him  a  bad  one.  It  was  one  of  Dale's  graces  to 
be  unconscious  of  most  of  his  triumphs,  and  it 
had  evidently  never  struck  him  that  Nellie's 
affections  would  offer  any  obstacle  to  the 
scheme,  or  cause  her  fatally  to  misinterpret 
what  the  scheme  was. 

"  I  don't  see,"  said  Piiilip,  "  that  she  is  more 
likely  to  be  captivated  by  our  young  friend  here 
than  in  London." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  he's  at  work  there,  and  so 
is  she.     Here  they'll  have  nothing  else  to  do." 

While  Dale  chattered  over  his  great  idea, 
Philip  pondered  whether  to  interfere  or  not. 
He  was  certain  that  Nellie  had  been  fond,  not 
of  Arthur  Angell,  but  of  Dale  himself;  he 
feared  she  would  think  her  invitation  came  from 
Dale's  own  heart,  not  in  favor  to  a  friend,  and 
he  suspected  the  kindness  would  end  in  pain. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  affections  change,  and 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  falling  back  on  the 
good  when  the  better  is  out  of  reach  ;  and, 
finally,  there  is  a  sound  general  principle  that 
where  it  is  doubtful  whether  to  hold  one's 
tongue  or  not,  one's  tongue  should  be  held. 
Philip  held  his. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said: 

"  If  this  goes  on,  a  bachelor  won't  be  safe  in 
Denborough.  What  have  you  been  doing?" 
and  he  pointed  at  some  scribbling  which  lay  on 
the  table. 


DALE  TRIES  HIS  HAND  A  T  AN  ODE.       159 

Dale  flushed  a  little. 

"Oh,  I've  just  been  trying  my  hand  at  that 
little  thing  they  want  me  to  do — you  know." 

"  For  the  Radical  meeting  ?  " 

"  No,  no.     For  the  Duke  of  Mercia's  visit." 

"  Oh  !     So  you're  going  to  do  it  ?  " 

Dale  assumed  a  candid  yet  judicial  air. 

"  If  I  find  I  can  say  anything  gracious  and 
becoming,  without  going  back  on  my  principles, 
Phil,  I  think  I  shall.     Otherwise  not." 

"  I  see,  old  fellow.     Think  you  will  be  able  ?  " 

"  I  don't  intend  to  budge  an  inch  from  my 
true  position  for  anybody." 

"  Don't  be  too  hard  on  the  Duke.  He's  a 
young  man." 

Dale  became  suspicious  that  he  was  being 
treated  with  levity  ;  he  looked  annoyed,  and 
Philip  hastened  to  add  : 

"My  dear  boy,  write  your  poem,  and  never 
mind  what  people  tell  you  about  your  principles. 
Why  shouldn't  you  write  some  verses  to  the 
young  man  ?  " 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  replied  Dale  eagerly. 
"  It  doesn't  compromise  me  in  the  least.  I 
think  you're  quite  right,  Phil." 

And  he  sat  down  again  with  a  radiant 
expression. 

Philip  lit  his  pipe,  and  drew  his  chair  near 
the  fire,  listening  idly  to  the  light  scratchings  of 
the  writing  and  the  heavy  scratchings  of  the 
erasures. 

"  You  seem  to  scratch  out  a  lot.  Dale,"  he 
remarked. 

"  A  thing's  no  good,"  said  Dale,  without  turn- 


l6o  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

ing  round,  "  till  you've  scratched  it  all  out  twice 
at  least." 

"  It's  a  pity,  then,"  said  Philip,  pulling  at  his 
pipe  and  looking  into  the  fire,  "  that  we  aren't 
allowed  to  treat  life  like  that." 

His  words  struck  a  chord  in  Dale's  memory. 
He  started  up,  and  repeated  : 

"The  moving  Finger  writes,  and  having  writ 
Moves  on,  nor  all  your  piety  nor  wit 
Can  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  line, 
Nor  all  your  tears  wash  out  a  word  of  it." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Philip,  stretching  out  a  hand 
to  the  flickering  blaze,  "  we  go  on  being  pious 
and  wise — some  of  us  ;  and  we  go  on  crying — 
all  of  us." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Deltlab  ^obnstone. 

HEN  it  became  known  to  Mr.  Delane 
that  the  ode  of  welcome  would  be 
forthcoming, — a  fact  which,  without 
being  definitely  announced,  presently 
made  its  way  into  general  knowledge, — he  felt 
that  he  owed  Dale  Bannister  a  good  turn.  The 
young  man  was  obviously  annoyed  and  hurt  at 
the  aspect  of  Alderman  Johnstone's  window,  and 
the  Squire  could  not,  moreover,  conceal  from 
himself  that  the  parade  of  the  Alderman's  sand- 
wich-men on  the  day  of  the  royal  visit  would 
detract  from  the  unanimity  of  loyalty  and  con- 
tentment with  Queen  and  Constitution  which  he 
felt  Denborough  ought  to  display.  Finally,  his 
wife  and  his  daughter  were  so  strongly  of 
opinion  that  something  must  be  done  that  he 
had  no  alternative  but  to  try  to  do  something. 
Intimidation  had  failed  ;  the  Alderman  in- 
trenched himself  behind  his  lease  ;  and  Colonel 
Smith's  open  triumph  was  hardly  needed  to 
show  the  Squire  that  in  this  matter  he  had 
been  caught  napping.  Bribery  of  a  direct  and 
pecuniary  sort  was  apparently  also  of  no  avail, 
and  the  Squire  was  driven  to  play  his  last  card 
at  the  cost  of  great  violence  to  his  own  feelings. 
A  week  before  the  great   day  he  sent  for  the 

x6i 


1 62  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Mayor  and  was  closeted  with  him  for  half  an 
hour.  The  Mayor  came  out  from  the  confer- 
ence with  an  important  air,  and,  on  his  way 
home,  stopped  at  Alderman  Johnstone's  door. 
The  poems,  placards,  and  posters  were  still 
prominently  displayed,  and  over  the  way  James 
Roberts,  in  his  well-worn  coat,  paced  up  and 
down  on  his  unwearying  patrol.  He  would 
wait  days  rather  than  miss  Dale,  in  case  the 
poet  might  chance  to  pass  that  way.  He  had 
nothing  to  do,  for  no  one  sent  for  him  now  ; 
he  had  no  money, and  could  earn  none;  there- 
fore his  time  was  his  own,  and  he  chose  to 
spend  it  thus,  forgetting  his  wife  and  his  child, 
forgetting  even  to  ask  how  it  happened  that 
there  was  still  food  and  fuel  in  his  house,  or  to 
suspect  what  made  him  so  often  see  Philip 
Hume  walk  past  with  an  inquiring  gaze,  indiffer- 
ently concealed,  and  so  often  meet  Dale's  serv- 
ant, Wilson,  carrying  baskets  up  and  down  the 
street  on  his  way  to  and  from  Littlehill. 

The  Mayor  went  in  and  fell  into  conversation 
with  Johnstone.  He  spoke  of  the  glories  of 
the  coming  day,  of  his  own  new  gown,  and  of 
Mrs.  Hedger's  ;  and  as  he  raised  his  voice  in 
enthusiastic  descrij)tion  Mrs.  Johnstone  stole  in 
from  the  back  parlor  and  stood  within  the  door. 
The  Alderman  affected  scorn  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  chuckled  maliciously  when  the 
Mayor   referred   to  Dale   Bannister. 

"  Then,"  said  the  Mayor,  "  after  the  Insti- 
toot's  opened,  there's  a  grand  luncheon  at  the 
Grange,  with  the  Duke,  and  his  Lordship,  and 
the  Squire,  and  all." 


DELILAH  JOHNSTONE.  163 

He  paused  :  the  Alderman  whistled  indiffer- 
ently, and  his  wife  drew  a  step  nearer.  The 
Mayor  proceeded,  bringing  his  finest  rhetoric 
into  play. 

"  The  Crown,"  he  said,  "  the  County,  and  the 
Town  will  be  represented." 

"  What,  are  you  going,  Hedger  ?  "  asked  the 
Alderman,  with  an  incredulous  laugh. 

"  The  Squire  and  Mrs.  Delane  are  so  good  as 
to  make  a  point  of  me  and  Mrs.  Hedger  attendin' 
— in  state,  Johnstone." 

"  My  ! "  said  Mrs.  Johnstone,  moving  a  step 
within  the  door.     "  That  '11  be  a  day  for  Susan." 

"  His  Lordship  gives  Susan  his  arm,"  said 
the  Mayor. 

"  Aint  there  any  more  going  from  the  town  }  " 
asked  Mrs.  Johnstone,  while  the  Alderman 
ostentatiously  occupied  himself  with  one  of  his 
posters. 

"  The  Squire,"  replied  the  Mayor,  "  did  want 
another, — there's  no  room  but  for  two, — but  he 
thinks  there's  no  one  of  sufficient  standin' — not 
as  would  go." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  !  "  said  Mrs.  Johnstone. 

"  You  see,  ma'am,"  pursued  the  Mayor,  "  -we 
must  consider  the  lady.  The  lady  must  be 
asked.  Now  would  you  ask  Mrs.  Maggs,  or 
Mrs.  Jenks,  or  Mrs.  Capper,  or  any  o'  that  lot, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"  Sakes,  no !  "  said  Mrs.  Johnstone  scorn- 
fully. 

" '  There  is  a  lady,'  I  says  to  the  Squire,'  as 
would  do  honor  to  the  town,  but  there — the 
man's  wrong  there  ! '  " 


1 64  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Mrs.  Johnstone  came  nearer  still,  glancing  at 
her  husband. 

"  When  I  mentioned  the  party  I  was  thinkin' 
of,"  the  Mayor  went  on,  "  the  Squire  slapped 
his  thigh,  and,  says  he, '  The  very  man  we  want, 
Hedger,'  he  says  ;  '  all  parties  ought  to  be 
represented.  He's  a  Liberal — a  prominent 
Liberal;  so  much  the  better.  Now,  won't  he 
come  ? '  '  Well,'  says  \, '  he's  an  obstinate  man  ; ' 
and  Mrs.  Delane  says,  '  You  must  try,  Mr. 
Mayor.     Say  what  pleasure  it  'ud  give  me  to 

see  him  and  Mrs.  Johnstone '     There,  I've 

let  it  out !  " 

A  pause  followed.  The  Mayor  drew  a  card 
from  his  pocket.  It  was  headed,  "To  have  the 
honor  of  meeting  H.  R.  H.  the  Duke  of  Mercia." 
The  Mayor  laid  it  on  the  counter. 

"  There  !  "  he  said.  "  You  must  do  as  you 
think  right,  Johnstone.  Of  course,  if  you  like 
to  go  on  like  this,  worryin'  the  Squire's  friends, 
why,  it  isn't  for  you  to  put  your  legs  under 
the  Squire's  ma'ogany.  So  the  Squire  says. 
He  says,  '  Let  him  drop  that  nonsense,  and 
come  and  be  friendly — he  may  think  what  he 
likes.' " 

There  was  another  pause. 

"There'll  have  been  nothin'  like  it  in  my 
day,"  said  the  Mayor.  "And  only  me  and 
Susan  from  the  town  !  " 

"  There'll  be  plenty  ready  to  go,"  said  John- 
stone. 

"  Aye,  that  they  will,  but  they  won't  have  the 
askin'.  Mrs.  Delane  says  there  aint  a  soul 
she'll  have,  except  me  and  Susan,  and  you  and 


DEL  ILAH  JOHNS  I  ONE.  1 6  5 

Mrs.  Johnstone.  You  see,  ma'am,  it  isn't 
everyone  who  can  sit  down  with  the  county." 

The  heart  of  Mrs.  Johnstone  was  alight  with 
pride  and  exuUation  and  longing.  She  looked 
at  her  husband  and  she  looked  at  the  Mayor. 

"  You  and  me  and  the  Recorder  'ud  drive  up 
in  the  coach,"  said  the  Mayor,  with  the  air  of 
one  who  regretfully  pictures  an  impossible 
ideal ;  "  and  the  ladies — Mrs.  Hedger  and  you, 
ma'am — was  to  follow  in  a  carriage  and  pair 
with  a  postilion — his  Lordship  'ud  send  one 
for  ye." 

"  I'd  wear  my  ruby  velvet,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Johnstone  in  the  voice  of  soliloquy,  "  and  my 
gold  earrings." 

"  Well,  I  must  be  goin',"  said  the  Mayor, 
"  It's  a  cryin'  shame  you  won't  come,  John- 
stone. What's  that  mad  feller  Roberts  to 
you  }  " 

"  A  dirty  villain  as  starves  his  wife  !  "  ejacu- 
lated Mrs.  Johnstone,  with  sudden  violence. 

The  Alderman  looked  up  with  a  start. 

"  Take  a  day  to  think  it  over,"  said  the 
Mayor.  "  Take  a  day,  ma'am  ;  "  and  he  dis- 
appeared with  a  smile  on  his  shrewd,  good- 
tempered  face. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  after  he 
went.  The  Alderman  sat  in  his  chair,  glancing 
at  his  wife  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  Mrs. 
Johnstone  gazed  fixedly  at  the  shop-window. 
The  Alderman  looked  at  her  again  :  she  was,  he 
thought  (with  much  justice),  a  fine  woman; 
she  would  look  well  in  the  ruby  velvet  and  the 
gold   earrings,  and   the   swells  would  wonder 


1 66  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

where  old  Johnstone  picked  up  that  strapping 
young  woman — for  she  was  his  junior  by 
twenty  years.  The  Alderman  sighed,  and 
looked  down  again  at  his  poster. 

Presently  Mrs.  Johnstone  stole  quietly  toward 
the  window,  the  Alderman  covertly  watching 
her.  When  she  reached  it,  she  threw  a  coquet- 
tish glance  over  her  shoulder  at  her  elderly  hus- 
band :  did  she  not  know,  as  well  as  he,  that  she 
was  a  fine  young  woman  ? 

Then  she  began  to  take  Dale  Bannister's 
books  out  of  their  place,  piling  them  behind  the 
counter,  and  to  tear  down  the  bills  and  placards. 
The  Alderman  sat  and  watched  her,  till  she 
had  finished  her  task.  Then  he  rose  and 
thundered  : 

"  Put  them  things  back,  Sally  !  Do  you  'ear 
tne?     I  aint  going  to  be  made  a  fool  of." 

Probably  Mrs.  Johnstone  was  not  so  sure. 
She  burst  into  tears  and  flung  her  arms  round 
the  Alderman's  neck. 

"  There  !  what's  there  to  cry  about  ?  "  said 
he,  drawing  her  on  to  his  knee. 

While  the  Mayor  was  still  in  the  shop,  James 
Roberts  had  gone  home  to  his  midday  meal. 
He  ate  it  with  good  appetite,  not  knowing  who 
had  paid  for  it,  and  not  noticing  his  wife's 
terror  lest  he  should  ask  her.  After  the  meal 
he  went  to  his  study  and  read  some  of  Dale's 
poetry,  declaiming  it  loudly  and  with  fury,  while 
Ethel  listened  with  the  horror  that  had  begun 
to  gain  on  her  increasing  and  increasing  as  she 
listened.  She  was  afraid  of  him  now— afraid 
most  for  him,  but  also  for  the  child  and  her- 


DEL  IL  A  H  JOHNS  TONE.  1 6  7 

self;  and  she  thanked  Heaven  every  time  he 
went  out  peacefully,  and  again  when  he  came 
back  unhurt. 

It  was  about  four  when  the  Doctor  took  his 
hat  and  walked  down  the  street  to  resume  his 
patrol.  To  his  amazement,  the  window  was 
bare,  the  books  gone,  the  placards  and  posters 
all  torn  down.  With  an  oath  he  rushed  into 
the  shop,  and  found  the  Alderman  sitting  be- 
hind a  pile  of  volumes,  on  the  top  of  which  lay 
an  envelope  addressed  to  himself. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  this  .''  "  gasped  the 
Doctor,  and  as  he  spoke  the  glass  door  which 
led  to  the  parlor  opened  a  little  way. 

"  It  means,  Doctor,  that  I've  had  enough  of 
it." 

"  Enough  of  it  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Mr.  Bannister  aint  done  me  any 
'arm,  and  I'm  not  going  to  fret  him  any 
more." 

"  You  scoundrel !  "  shrieked  the  maddened 
man ;  "  you  thief !  you  took  my  money — 
you " 

"  There's  your  books,  and  there  in  the  enve- 
lope you'll  find  your  'undred  pound.  Take  'em 
and  get  out." 

"So  Bannister  has  been  at  you.''"  sneered 
Roberts. 

"  I  aint  seen  'im." 

"Ah!" 

He  was  quiet  now,  the  cold  fit  was  on  him. 
He  took  no  notice  of  the  books,  but  put  the 
envelope  in  his  pocket  and  turned  to  go, 
saying : 


1 68  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"You  think  you  can  stop  my  revenge,  you 
pitiful  fool ;  you'll  see." 

Johnstone  gave  himself  a  shake. 

"  I'm  well  out  of  that,"  he  said.  "  I  b'lieve 
he's  crazy.     Sally,  where  are  you  ?  " 

Sally  came,  and  no  doubt  the  Alderman 
gained  the  reward  of  the  righteous,  in  whose 
house  there  is  peace. 

When  the  Squire  received  an  acceptance  of 
his  invitation  from  Alderman  and  Mrs.  John- 
stone, he  became  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  eveiy  Radical  was  at  heart  a  snob.  Per- 
haps it  would  have  been  fair  to  remember  that 
most  of  them  are  husbands.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
his  scheme  had  worked.  The  posters,  the 
books,  and  the  sandwich-men  were  gone. 
There  was  nothing  now  to  remind  Denborough 
that  it  harbored  a  revolutionist.  What  was 
more  important  still,  there  was  nothing  to 
remind  Dale  Bannister  of  the  indiscretions  of 
his  past.  He  might  now  read  his  ode,  unblush- 
ing, in  High  Street,  and  no  placard  would 
scream  in  ill-omened  reminder :  "  No  more 
Kings ! " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

B  1ClclI=ipai&  poem. 

MONG  the  quieter  satisfactions  of  life 
must  be  ranked  in  a  high  place  the 
peace  of  a  man  who  has  made  up  his 
mind.  He  is  no  longer  weighing  per- 
plexing possibilities,  but,  having  chosen  his 
path,  feels  that  he  has  done  all  that  can  be 
done,  and  that  this  conviction  will  enable  him 
to  bear  with  patience  the  outcome  of  his  deter- 
mination, whatever  it  may  be.  Of  course  he  is 
wrong,  and  if  misfortune  comes,  his  philosophy 
will  go  to  the  wall,  but  for  the  moment  it  seems 
as  if  fate  cannot  harm  him,  because  he  has  set 
his  course  and  bidden  defiance  to  it. 

Dale  had  made  up  his  mind  to  disregard 
cavilers,  not  to  write  the  Radical  ditty,  to  write 
the  ode  of  welcome,  and,  lastly,  to  follow  whither 
his  inclination  led.  And,  on  the  top  of  these 
comforting  resolutions,  came  the  removal  of  his 
thorn  in  the  flesh — Johnstone's  be-placarded 
shop  window — and  the  glow  of  well-rewarded 
benevolence  with  which  he  had  witnessed  Nellie 
Fane's  ill-concealed  delight  in  her  return  to 
Littlehill  and  Arthur  Angell's  openly  declared 
pleasure  in  greeting  her.  Dale  began  to  think 
that  he  had  too  easily  allowed  himself  to  be  put 
169 


I70  A  CHANCE  OF  AIR. 

out,  and  had  been  false  to  his  poetic  tempera- 
ment by  taking  trifles  hardly.  He  was  jocund 
as  he  walked,  and  nature  responded  to  his 
mood  :  the  sun  shone  bright  and  warm  on  him, 
and  the  spring  air  was  laden  with  pleasant  hints 
of  coming  summer.  He  wondered  how  and 
why,  a  few  weeks  ago,  he  had  nearly  bidden  a 
disgusted  farewell  to  Market  Denborough. 

Now,  when  a  man  sets  out  in  such  a  mood, 
being  a  young  man,  and  a  man,  as  they  used  to 
say,  of  sensibility,  next  to  anything  may  happen. 
From  his  contented  meditations  on  the  happy 
arrangement  he  had  made  for  his  friends.  Dale's 
thoughts  traveled  on  to  his  own  affairs.  He 
was  going  to  the  Grange — he  was  always  going 
to  the  Grange  now,  and  he  seemed  always  wel- 
come there.     Mrs.  Delane  was  kind,  the  Squire 

was  effusive,  and  Janet Here  his  thoughts 

became  impossible  to  record  in  lowly  prose. 
The  goddess  had  become  flesh  for  him  ;  still 
stately  and  almost  severe  in  her  maiden  reserve 
to  all  others,  as  she  had  once  been  to  him,  now 
for  him  she  smiled  and  blushed,  and  would 
look,  and  look  away,  and  look  again,  and  vainly 
summon  her  tamed  pride  to  hide  what  her 
delight  proclaimed.  It  was  sudden.  Oh,  yes; 
anything  worth  having  was  sudden,  thought 
lucky  Dale.  Fame  had  been  sudden,  wealth 
had  been  sudden.  Should  not  love  be  sudden 
too? 

"  If  I  get  a  chance "  said  Dale  to  himself, 

and  he  smiled  and  struck  at  the  weeds  with  his 
stick,  and  hummed  a  tune.  Anything  might 
happen. 


A   WELL-PAID  POEM.  17 1 

The  Prince  was  due  in  three  days,  and  already 
flags  and  triumphal  arches  were  beginning  to 
appear.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  demand  for 
drugs  was  small,  for  Mr.  Hedger  was  to  be 
found  everywhere  but  behind  his  own  counter, 
and  Alderman  Johnstone,  having  once  taken 
the  plunge,  was  hardly  less  active  in  superin- 
tending the  preparations.  The  men  who  had 
carried  those  obnoxious  boards  were  now  more 
worthily  earning  their  bread  by  driving  in  posts 
and  nailing  up  banners,  and  Dale  saw  that 
Denborough  was  in  earnest,  and  meant  to  make 
the  reception  a  notable  testimony  to  its  loyalty. 
He  loitered  to  watch  the  stir  for  a  little  while, 
for  it  was  early  afternoon,  and  he  must  not 
arrive  at  the  Grange  too  soon.  Not  even  the 
ode  itself,  which  he  carried  in  his  pocket,  could 
excuse  an  intrusion  on  the  Squire's  midday 
repose.  As  he  stood  looking  on  he  was 
accosted  by  Dr.  Spink. 

"  I  have  just  been  to  see  Roberts,"  he  said. 

"Is  he  ill?" 

"Yes.  His  wife  sent  for  me.  As  you  may 
suppose,  she  would  not  have  done  so  for 
nothing." 

"  What's  the  matter  }  " 

"  I  don't  Hke  his  state  at  all.  He  took  no 
notice  of  me,  but  lay  on  his  bed,  muttering  to 
himself.  I  think  he's  a  little  touched  here  ;  " 
and  the  doctor  put  a  finger  just  under  the  brim 
of  his  well-brushed  hat. 

"  Poor  chap  !  "  said  Dale.  "  I  should  like  to 
go  and  see  him." 

Spink  discouraged  any  such  idea. 


172  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  You're  the  very  last  person  he  ought  to  see. 
I  want  him  to  go  away," 

"  Has  he  got  any  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so.  His  wife  told  me  he  had 
now." 

"  And  won't  he  go  ?  " 

"  He  says  he  must  stay  till  after  the  15th  " — 
the  15th  was  the  great  day — "and  then  he  will 
go.  That's  the  only  word  I  could  get  out  of 
him.  I  told  his  wife  to  let  me  know  at  once  if 
there  was  any  change  for  the  worse." 

"  It's  hard  on  her,  poor  little  woman,"  said 
Dale,  passing  on  his  way. 

He  found  Tora  Smith  and  Sir  Harry  at  the 
Grange.  Rather  to  his  surprise,  Tora  greeted 
him  with  friendly  cordiality,  accepting  his  con- 
gratulations very  pleasantly.  He  had  expected 
her  to  show  some  resentment  at  his  refusal  to 
write  a  song  for  her,  but  in  Tora's  mind  songs 
and  poets.  Liberal  meetings,  and  even  royal 
visits,  had  been,  for  the  time  at  least,  relegated 
to  a  distant  background  of  entire  unimportance. 
Captain  Ripley  was  there  also,  witli  the  ill-used 
air  that  he  could  not  conceal,  although  he  was 
conscious  that  it  only  aggravated  his  bad  fortune. 
He  took  his  leave  a  very  few  minutes  after  Dale 
arrived;  for  what  pleasure  was  there  in  looking 
on  while  everybody  purred  over  Dale,  and  told 
him  his  ode  was  the  most  magnificent  tribute 
ever  paid  to  a  youthful  Prince?  Dale,  in  his 
heart,  thought  the  same, — so  does  a  man  love 
what  he  creates, — but  he  bore  his  compliments 
with  a  graceful  outward  modesty. 

The  afternoon  was  so  unseasonably   fine — 


A   IVELL-PAID  POEM.  173 

such  was  the  reason  given — that  Janet  and  he 
found  themselves  walking  in  the  garden,  she 
talking  merrily  of  their  preparations,  he  watch- 
ing her  tine,  clear-cut  profile,  and,  as  she  turned 
to  him  in  talk,  the  gay  dancing  of  her  eyes. 

"Your  doing  it,"  she  said,  "just  makes  the 
whole  thing  perfect.  How  can  we  thank  you 
enough,  Mr.  Bannister?" 

"  The  Captain  did  not  seem  to  care  about  my 
verses,"  Dale  remarked,  with  a  smile. 

Janet  blushed  a  little,  and  gave  him  a  sudden 
glance — a  glance  that  was  a  whole  book  of 
confidences,  telling  what  she  never  could  have 
told  in  words,  what  she  never  would  have  told 
at  all,  did  not  the  eyes  sometimes  outrun  their 
mandate  and  speak  unbidden  of  the  brain. 

Dale  smiled  again — this  time  in  triumph. 

"  You  like  them  ?  "  he  asked  softly,  caressing 
the  little  words  with  his  musical,  lingering 
tones. 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  she  said,  looking  at  him  once 
more  for  a  moment,  and  then  hastily  away. 

"  I'll  write  you  a  volume  twice  as  good,  if — I 
may." 

"  Twice  as  good  ?  "  she  echoed,  with  a  laugh. 
"  Now,  honestly,  don't  you  think  these  perfect 
yourself  ?  " 

"  They  are  good — better  than  any  I  wrote 
before " — he  paused  to  watch  her  face,  and 
went  on  in  a  lower  voice  :  "  I  knew  you  ;  but  I 
shall  do  better  the  more  I  know  you  and  the 
better." 

Janet  had  no  light  answer  ready  now.  Her 
heart  was  beating,  and  she  had  much  ado  not 


174  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

to  bid  him  end  her  sweet,  unbearable  excite- 
ment. 

They  had  reached  the  end  of  the  terrace  and 
passed  into  the  wood  that  sl<irted  it  to  the  west. 
Suddenly  she  made  a  movement  as  if  to  turn 
and  go  back. 

"  No,  no,"  he  whispered  in  her  ear;  and,  as 
she  wavered,  he  caught  her  by  the  arm,  and, 
without  words  of  asking  or  of  doubt,  drew  her 
to  him  and  kissed  her. 

"  My  beauty,  my  queen,  my  love!  "  he  whis- 
pered.    "  You  love  me,  you  love  me !  " 

She  drew  back  her  head,  straightening  the 
white  column  of  her  neck,  while  her  hands  held 
his  shoulders.  "  Ah,  I  would  die  for  you  !  "  she 
said. 

Mrs.  Delane  was  a  woman  of  penetration. 
Though  Janet  told  her  nothing  of  what  had 
occurred,— for  she  and  Dale  agreed  to  let  the 
matter  remain  a  secret  till  the  impending 
festivities  were  over, — yet  Mrs.  Delane  saw 
something  in  her  daughter's  air  which  made 
her,  that  same  evening,  express  to  the  Squire 
her  doleful  conviction  that  the  worst  had  hap- 
pened. 

"  I  shall  say  nothing  to  Janet,"  she  said,  "  till 
she  speaks  to  me.  I  can  trust  her  absolutely. 
But  I  am  afraid  of  it,  George.  Poor  Gerard 
Ripley  !  " 

"My  dear,  I'm  not  going  to  break  my  heart 
about  Gerard  Ripley.     I  tliink  more  of  Jan." 

"  Well,  of  course,  so  do  I.  And  I  don't  at  all 
like  it.  He's  not — well,  not  our  sort,  as  the 
young  people  say." 


A   WELL-PAID  POEM.  175 

"  Mary,  you're  talking  slang.  What's  the 
matter  with  him  ?  The  match  will  make  Jan 
famous." 

"  Well,  well,  I  don't  like  it,  but  you  must 
have  your  way." 

"  It's  not  my  way.  It's  Jan's  way.  Is  she 
fond  of  him  .''  " 

"  Terribly,  I'm  afraid,  poor  child  !  " 

The  Squire  became  a  little  irritated  at  this 
persistently  sorrowful  point  of  view. 

"  Really,  my  dear,  why  shouldn't  she  be  fond 
of  him  ?  It's  not  a  bad  thing  when  people  are 
going  to  marry." 

"  I  wish  I'd  seen  it  in  time  to  stop  it." 

"  On  the  whole,  Mary,  I'm  rather  glad  you 
didn't.     I  like  the  young  fellow." 

In  this  state  of  things — with  the  lady  eagerly 
consenting,  and  a  father  all  but  ready  to  urge 
her  on — well  might  Captain  Ripley  ride  reck- 
lessly home  from  Dirkham  Grange,  cursing  the 
ways  of  women  and  the  folly  of  men,  and  prom- 
ising himself  to  go  to  India  and  there  be 
killed,  to  the  end  that  his  tragic  fate  might 
bring  a  pang  to  Janet's  heart  in  future  days. 
Well  might  he  discover  a  sudden  recall,  and 
return  to  his  regiment,  escaping  the  Denborough 
celebrations,  and  risking  offense  in  exalted 
quarters.  So  he  went ;  and  nobody  at  Den- 
borough thought  any  more  about  him — not 
even  Janet,  for  joy  swallows  up  pity,  and  the 
best  of  humanity  are  allowed,  without  reproach, 
to  be  selfish  once  or  twice  in  life. 

That  same  night,  at  dinner  at  Littlehill, 
NelUe  Fane  thought   Dale  had  never  been  so 


176  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

bright,  so  brilliant,  or  so  merry.  Under  his 
leadership,  the  fun  and  mirth  waxed  fast  and 
furious,  till  it  carried  away  her  doubts  and  fears, 
and  Angell's  sore  wonderings  why  she  looked 
always  at  Dale  and  never  at  him,  and  Philip's 
troubled  forebodings  of  sorrows  no  friendly 
hand  could  avert.  Dale's  high  spirits  bore  no 
check  and  suffered  no  resistance,  and  there  was 
a  tumult  in  Littlehill,  such  as  had  not  been 
heard  since  its  early  indecorous  days. 

Suddenly,  into  this  scene,  followed  hastily  by 
Wilson,  there  broke,  hatless  and  cloakless, 
Ethel  Roberts,  her  face  pale  and  her  eyes  wide 
with  fear.  Running  to  Philip  Hume,  she 
cried  : 

"  My  husband  !  He  has  gone,  he  has  gone  ! 
We  cannot  find  him.  He  has  gone,  and  taken 
the  pistol  with  him.  What  shall  I  do?  Oh, 
what  shall  I  do  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Bn  J£vcninQ'3  J6nD. 

HE  next  morning,  Roberts'  friends 
held  an  anxious  conference.  Tlie 
Doctor,  being  left  alone  while  his  wife 
went  out  on  household  affairs,  had,  it 
seemed,  risen  from  bed,  dressed  himself,  and 
left  the  house.  He  had  taken  a  few  pounds, 
part  of  what  Johnstone  had  returned  to  him, 
but  no  luggage.  Nothing  was  gone  except  his 
revolver,  which  had  lain  on  the  mantelpiece, 
his  wife  having  feared  to  take  it  away.  In  the 
absence  of  other  explanation,  it  seemed  most 
probable  that  he  had  suddenly  determined  to 
return  to  London,  and  Dr.  Spink  thought  Lon- 
don the  best  place  to  look  for  him.  Accord- 
ingly, Philip  Hume  at  once  started  in  pursuit  ; 
for  all  felt,  though  none  of  them  liked  to  ex- 
press the  feeling,  that  Roberts  was  not  in  a 
state  in  which  he  could  safely  be  trusted  to 
look  after  himself.  His  wife  was  helpless  with 
grief  and  bewilderment,  and  kindly  Mrs.  Hodge 
determined  to  spend  the  day  with  her,  and 
return  to  Littlehill  only  late  in  the  evening; 
thus  at  least  proper  attention  would  be  secured 
to  the  helpless  child  and  its  hardly  less  helpless 
mother. 

Not  even   these   troubles   could   keep   Dale 
177 


178  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

from  the  Grange,  and  after  dinner,  with  an 
apology  to  Nellie  and  Arthur,  he  announced  his 
intention  of  strolling  over  to  ask  the  Squire  at 
what  point  in  the  proceedings  his  ode  was  to 
come.  Nellie  had  a  letter  to  write,  or  said  she 
had,  and  Arthur  Angell  offered  to  bear  Dale 
company  part  of  the  way,  with  a  cigar. 

The  two  men  set  out  together,  and  Arthur 
did  not  leave  his  friend  till  they  were  at  the 
Grange  drive.  Then  he  sauntered  back,  hum- 
ming snatches  of  song  between  his  puffs  of 
smoke,  and  rejoicing  in  the  glory  of  a  full 
moon.  He  had  almost  reached  the  gate  of 
Littlehill,  when,  to  his  surprise,  he  saw,  a  few 
yards  from  him,  a  figure  that  seemed  familiar. 
He  caught  sight  of  it  only  for  a  moment,  for 
the  trees  then  came  between  ;  and  yet  he  felt 
almost  sure  that  the  stealthily  moving  form  was 
that  of  James  Roberts.  He  stood  watching  to 
see  him  again,  but  he  did  not  ;  and,  going  into 
the  house,  he  told  Nellie  what  he  thought  he 
had  seen. 

"Dr.  Roberts  going  toward  the  Grange!" 
she  exclaimed.     "You  must  be  mistaken." 

"  I  don't  think  so.     It  looked  like  him." 

Nellie  was  not  inclined  to  think  he  could  be 
right,  but  she  agreed  that  Arthur  had  better  go 
and  tell  Dr.  Spink  of  his  suspicions.  Arthur 
went  off  on  his  errand,  and  she  sat  by  the  fire 
alone. 

Abandoning  herself  to  reverie,  she  idly  and 
sadly  reviewed  the  events  of  the  days  since  her 
return.  How  joyfully  she  had  come  !  But  it 
had  hardly  been  as  good  as  she  hoped.     Dale 


AN  EVENING'S  END.  179 

was  very  kind,  when  he  was  there.  But  why 
did  he  leave  her  so  much — leave  her  to  Arthur 
Angell  ?  And  ah,  why  did  he  go  so  much  to 
the  Grange  ?  It  was  all  far  pleasanter  before 
he  came  to  Denborough,  before  he  knew  these 
great  people — yes,  and  before  this  Dr.  Roberts 
was  there  to  worry  them.  The  thought  ot 
Roberts  carried  her  mind  in  a  new  direction. 
What  a  strange  man  he  was  !  And  his  poor 
wife  !  She  could  not  think  why  he  had  become 
so  odd  and  so  unfriendly.  Yet  it  was  so.  He 
seemed  absolutely  to  hate  Dale ;  she  had  seen 
him  look  at  him  so  fiercely.  Dale  had  not 
ruined  him  ;  he  had  ruined  himself.  He  was 
mad  to  blame  Dale.  Ah,  wasn't  he  mad  .-* — 
She  sat  up  suddenly  in  her  chair.  What  if 
Arthur  were  right  ?  What  if  it  were  he.?  Why 
was  he  going  to  the  Grange  !  Dale  was  there. 
What  was  that  they  said  about  a  pistol  }  Ah 
—if 

Without  another  thought  she  rose,  and  as 
she  was,  in  her  evening  dress  and  thin  shoes, 
she  ran  out  of  the  house  and  along  the  wooded 
road  toward  the  Grange.  A  terrible  idea  was 
goading  her  on.  He  was  mad  ;  he  hated  Dale  ; 
he  had  a  revolver  with  him.  Oh,  could  she  be 
in  time  ?  They  would  wonder  at  her.  What 
did  that  matter?  Her  love,  her  lord  was — or 
might  be — in  danger.  She  pressed  on,  till  she 
panted  and  had  to  pause  ;  then,  with  breath  but 
half  recovered,  over  rough  and  smooth  ground, 
knowing  no  difference,  she  sped  on  her  way. 

Dale's  talk  with  the  Squire  was  not  long  ;  but 
the  Squire's  daughter  came  to  the  door  to  bid 


I80  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

him  good-night,  and  was  easily  persuaded  to 
walk  a  httle  way  down  the  drive  with  him.  She 
went  farther  than  she  meant,  as  was  natural 
enough  ;  for  she  was  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  he 
was  telling  her,  in  that  caressing  voice  of  his, 
that  all  his  life  and  heart  and  brain  and  power 
were  hers,  and  lavishing  sweet  words  on  her. 

"  I  must  go  back,  Dale,"  she  said,  "  They 
will  wonder  what  has  become  of  me." 

"Not  yet." 

"  Yes,  I  must." 

"  Ah,  my  darling,  how  soon  will  it  be  when 
we  need  never  part .''  How  soon }  I  mean 
how  long,  till  then  !     Do  you  love  me  .''  " 

"  You  know.  Dale." 

"  What  was  it  you  said  the  other  day — was  it 
only  yesterday.'' — that  you  would  die  for  me.''" 

"Yes." 

"  Ah,  Jan,  my  sweetest  Jan,  that  you  should 
say  that  to  me  !  " 

They  said  no  more,  but  did  not  part  yet.  At 
last  he  suffered  her  to  tear  herself  away. 

"  I  shall  run  back  through  the  shrubbery,"  she 
whispered. 

"  I  shall  wait." 

"  Yes,  wait.  When  I  get  in,  I  will  show  you 
a  light  from  my  window.  A  good-night  light, 
Dale." 

She  sped  away  down  a  side-path,  and  Dale 
leaned  against  a  tree,  in  the  moonlight,  fixing 
his  lovelorn  eyes  on  the  window. 

As  Janet  turned  down  her  path,  she  rushed, 
in  her  rapid  flight,  against  a  man  who  stood 
there  in  lurking. 


AN  E VENING'S  END.  I » I 

Dale's  side  was  to  him,  but  he  was  watching 
Dale,  with  a  sneering  smile  on  his  lips.  When 
she  saw  him,  she  started  back.  In  a  moment 
he  seized  her  shoulder  with  one  hand,  and 
pressed  a  pistol  to  her  head. 

"If  you  make  a  sound,  I'll  kill  you,"  he 
hissed.     "  Don't  stir — don't  scream." 

She  was  paralyzed  with  surprise  and  fright. 
It  was  Roberts,  and — what  did  he  mean  ? 

He  pushed  her  slowly  before  him,  the  revolver 
still  at  her  head,  till  they  reached  the  drive. 
Dale's  eyes  were  set  on  his  mistress'  window, 
and  their  feet  made  no  noise  on  the  grass-edges 
of  the  drive.  Roberts  gave  a  low  laugh,  and 
whispered  in  her  ear. 

"  He  came  to  see  you,  did  he  ?  The  traitor  ! 
Not  a  sound  I  Wait  till  he  turns  !  wait  till  he 
turns  !  I  want  him  to  see  me.  When  he  turns, 
I  shall  shoot  him." 

At  last  she  understood.  The  madman  meant 
to  kill  Dale. 

He  would  kill  him,  before  Dale  could  defend 
himself.  She  must  warn  him — at  any  cost,  she 
must  warn  him.     If  it  cost  her 

"  Not  a  sound,"  hissed  Roberts.  "  A  sound 
and  you  are  dead ;  your  head  blown  to  bits — 
blown  to  bits  !  "  And  again  he  laughed,  but 
noiselessly. 

It  was  her  life  against  his.  Ah,  she  must 
warn  him — she  must  cry  out !  But  the  cold 
barrel  pressed  against  her  temple,  and  the  mad- 
man's voice  hissed  in  her  ear  : 

"  Blown  to  bits— blown  to  bits  !  " 

She  couldn't  die,  she  couldn't  die !  not  like 


1 82  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

that— not   blown   to   bits  !     Perhaps  he  would 
miss;  Dale  might  escape.     She  couldn't  die  ! 

He  advanced  a  little  nearer,  keeping  on  the 
grass-edge  and  pushing  her  before  him,  still 
whispering  to  her  death  and  its  horrors,  if  she 
made  a  sound.  It  was  too  horrible  ;  she  could 
not  bear  it.  Ah  !  he  was  measuring  the  distance. 
She  must  cry  out !  She  opened  her  lips. 
Quick  as  thought,  he  pressed  the  barrel  to  her 
head.  She  could  not,  could  not  do  it ;  and, 
with  a  groan,  she  sank,  a  senseless  heap,  on  the 
ground  at  his  feet. 

Suddenly  a  shot  rang  out,  and  a  woman's 
cry.  Dale  started  from  his  reverie,  to  see  a 
woman  a  step  or  two  from  him  ;  a  woman, 
tottering,  swaying,  falling  forward  on  her  face, 
as  he  rushed  to  support  her  in  his  arms. 

There  was  a  shout  of  men's  voices,  and,  fol- 
lowing on  it,  another  report,  and  James  Roberts 
fell  beside  Janet  Delane,  his  head,  as  he  had 
said,  blown  to  bits  ;  and  two  panting  men,  who 
had  run  all  the  way  from  Denborough,  were 
raising  Janet  and  looking  if  she  were  dead,  and 
then  laying  her  down  again  and  turning  to 
where  Nellie  Fane  lay  in  lifeless  quiet  in  Dale's 
arms. 

"  A  minute  sooner  and  we  should  have  been 
in  time,"  said  Arthur  Angell  to  Dr.  Spink,  as 
the  Doctor  pushed  Dale  aside  and  knelt  over 
Nellie. 

And  Dale,  relieved,  ran  at  all  his  speed  to 
where  Janet  lay  and  threw  himself  on  his  knees 
beside  her. 

"  My  love,  open  your  eyes,"  he  cried. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
"trbe  ©tbcr  ©irl  2)i0." 

N  the  afternoon  of  the  morrow,  Philip 
Hume,  who,  summoned  by  a  telegram 
from  Dr.  Spink,  had  come  down  to 
Denborough  by  the  first  train  he 
could  catch,  put  on  his  hat,  and,  lighting  his 
pipe,  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  road  that 
ran  by  Littlehill.  Since  his  coming  he  had 
been  in  the  house,  and  the  house  had  seemed 
almost  to  stifle  him.  He  had  a  man's  feeling 
of  uselessness  in  the  face  of  a  sick  room ;  he 
could  do  nothing  to  help  Nellie  Fane  in  her 
struggle  for  life ;  he  only  hindered  the  people 
who  could  do  something.  Nor  did  he  succeed 
much  better  with  those  whose  ailments  were 
of  the  mind.  Arthur  Angell  sat  in  one  room, 
suspecting  now  that,  whether  Nellie  lived  or 
died,  his  dearest  hopes  were  dead.  Dale,  in 
another  room,  strode  unrestingly  to  and  fro, 
waiting  for  Wilson  to  come  back  from  the 
messages  he  kept  sending  him  on,  now  up- 
stairs to  Nellie's  door,  now  down  the  town  to 
Ethel  Roberts',  now,  and  most  often,  to  the 
Grange  ;  and  always  Wilson,  his  forehead  wet 
and  his  legs  weary,  came  back  and  said  : 
"  Please,  sir,  there  is  no  change." 
183 


1 84  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

Once  Nellie  had  been  conscious,  had  asked 
"  Is  he  safe  ?  "  and,  receiving  her  answer,  had 
closed  her  eyes  again.  Ethel  Roberts  was  in 
no  danger ;  the  shock  would  pass.  Of  Janet 
there  came  no  news,  save  that  she  was  alone 
with  her  mother,  and  cried  to  be  alone  even 
from  her  mother.  James  Roberts,  in  his 
frenzy,  had  indeed  wrought  havoc,  and  Philip, 
as  he  walked  and  smoked,  vehemently,  though 
silently,  cursed  the  ways  of  this  world. 

Presently  Mrs.  Hodge  came  out  in  her 
bonnet. 

"  Nellie  is  well  looked  after,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  going  down  to  see  how  that  poor  little 
Roberts  is." 

Philip  did  not  offer  to  go  with  the  good 
woman.  He  watched  her  heavy  figure  hasten- 
ing down  the  hill,  wondering  that  she  seemed 
almost  happy  in  her  busy  services  of  kindness. 
He  could  do  nothing  but  fret,  and  smoke,  and 
try  to  keep  out  of  the  way. 

A  smart  brougiiam  drove  up.  It  stopped 
by  him,  and  Tora  Smith  jumped  out. 

"  How  is  she  }  "  she  cried. 

"  Spink  thinks  she  will  pull  through,"  an- 
swered Philip  ;  "  but  of  course  she's  in  great 
danger  still." 

"  May  I  go  to  her  ?  "  asked  Tora. 

"  She  sees  no  one,"  he  replied  in  surprise. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  see  her.  I  mean  to 
stay  and  help— to  nurse  her,  you  know." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  :  she  has  her  mother 
and  a  nurse." 

"  Oh,  won't  you  let  me  ?  " 


"  THE  OTHER  GIRL  DID."  185 

"  It  does  not  rest  with  me.  But  why  should 
you  ?  " 

"  I — I  once  thought  such  horrid  things  of  her. 
And — wasn't  it  splendid  ?  " 

Philip  looked  kindly  at  her. 

"  That  will  please  her,"  he  said,  "  and  her 
friends." 

"  Mayn't  I  help  ?  " 

"  I  tell  you  what :  poor  Mrs.  Roberts  has  no 
one  but  a  hired  nurse.  Mrs.  Hodge  has  run 
down  for  a  minute,  but  of  course  she  can't 
leave  her  daughter  long." 

"  You  mean  I  ought  to  go  to  her  ?  " 

"  One  can't  even  be  kind  in  the  way  one  likes 
best,"  said  Philip. 

"  Well,  I  will.  But  I  should  have  loved  to 
be  with  Miss  Fane.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I 
feel  about  her.  I  think  people  who  think  evil 
things  of  other  people  ought  to  be  beaten,  Mr. 
Hume." 

"  Doubtless,  but  justice  flags.  You  can't 
expect  me  to  beat  you.  Miss  Smith." 

Tora  smiled  for  a  minute  ;  then  she  wiped 
her  eyes  again,  and  asked  gravely  : 

"  Are  you  never  serious  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  am  serious  now.  Go  to  that  poor 
woman  ;  consider  doing  that  in  the  light  of  a 
beating." 

"  You'll  let  Miss  Fane  know  I — I " 

"  Yes  ;  and  Dale.  What  a  terrible  facer  for 
our  celebrations,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Harry  has  ridden  over  to  see  Lord 
Cransford  about  it.  Mr.  Delane  wants  the 
thing  put  off,  if  possible." 


<86  A  CHANGE  OF  A/R. 

"  Can  you  put  off  a  Prince  ?  But  I  sup- 
pose he'll  be  only  too  glad  not  to  be  bored 
with   it." 

"You  know  Janet  is  in  a  dreadful  state? 
Poor  girl !  It  must  have  been  awful  for  her. 
The  man  had  hold  of  her !  Well,  I  shall  go. 
Good-by.  I  shall  run  up  here  again  to- 
morrow." 

The  putting  off  of  the  Prince,  in  spite  of 
Philip's  doubt  of  its  constitutional  possibility, 
was  managed  :  for  the  ceremony  could  hardly 
take  place  without  Mr.  Delane's  presence,  as 
he  had  been  the  inspiring  force  of  the  whole 
movement  which  had  resulted  in  the  Institute; 
and  Mr.  Delane  felt  it  utterly  out  of  the  ques- 
tion for  him  to  take  any  part  in  such  festivities, 
in  view  of  the  dreadful  occurrence  in  his 
grounds  and  of  his  daughter's  serious  condition. 
The  doctors,  indeed,  told  him  that  she  had 
stood  the  shock  remarkably  well  ;  they  would 
not  have  been  surprised  to  find  her  much  worse. 
Her  reason  was  unshaken,  and,  after  the  first 
night  anyhow,  the  horror  of  the  madman's  grip 
and  voice  had  left  her.  She  did  not,  waking 
or  sleeping,  for  she  slept  sometimes,  dream 
that  she  was  again  in  his  hands,  face  to  face 
with  death  ;  and  Dr.  Spink  congratulated  the 
Squire  and  Mrs.  Delane  on  a  good  prospect  of 
a  total  recovery.  Yet  Mrs.  Delane  and  the 
Squire  were  not  altogether  comforted.  For 
Janet  lay  from  morning  to  evening  on  her  bed, 
almost  motionless  and  very  quiet,  whenever 
anyone  was  in  the  room.  She  asked  once  or 
twice  after  her  fellow-sufferers,  but,  except  for 


"  THE  OTHER  GIRL  DID."  187 

ihat,  and  answering  questions,  she  never  spoke 
but  to  say  : 
"  I  think  I  could  sleep  if  I  were  alone." 
Then  Mrs.  Delane  would  go  away,  trying  to 
believe  the  excuse. 

There  are  not  many  of  us  who  would  feel 
warranted  in  being  very  hard  on  a  man  who  had 
failed  in  such  a  trial  as  had  befallen  Janet  De- 
lane  :  in  a  woman,  failure  would  seem  little 
other  than  a  necessary  consequence  of  her  sex. 
Death,  sudden,  violent,  and  horrible,  searches 
the  heart  too  closely  for  anyone  to  feel  sure  that 
his  would  be  found  sound  to  the  core — not  risk 
of  death,  for  that  most  men  will,  on  good  cause 
and,  even  more  cheerfully,  in  good  company, 
meet  and  face.  It  is  certainty  that  appalls  ;  and 
it  had  been  certain  death  that  had  awaited 
Janet's  first  cry.  And  yet  she  would  not  be 
comforted.  She  had  stopped  to  think  how 
certain  it  was  ;  then  she  failed.  The  mistake 
was  in  stopping  to  think  at  all.  The  other  girl 
— the  girl  he  did  not  love,  but  who,  surely,  loved 
him  with  a  love  that  was  love  indeed — had  not 
stopped  to  think  whether  the  bullet  could  or 
might  or  must  hit  her.  She  had  not  cared 
which  ;  it  had  been  enough  for  her  that  it 
might  hit  the  man  she  loved,  unless  she  stood 
between  to  stop  it,  and  she  had  stood  between. 
How  could  Janet  excuse  her  cowardice  by  tell- 
ing herself  of  the  certainty  of  death,  when,  had 
she  not  been  a  coward,  she  would  never  have 
stayed  to  know  whether  death  were  certain  or 
not  ?  If  she  ever  could  have  deluded  herself 
like  that,  what  the  other  girl  did  made  it  im- 


Io8  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

possible.  The  other  girl — so  she  always  thought 
of  Nellie — held  up  a  mirror  wherein  Janet  saw 
her  own  littleness.  And  yet  he  had  loved  her, 
not  the  other;  her  life  belonged  to  him,  the 
other's  did  not ;  she  had  proclaimed  proudly, 
but  an  instant  before,  that  she  would  die  for  him, 
and  he  had  praised  her  for  saying  it.  He  would 
know  now  what  her  protestations  were  worth. 
He  would  be  amused  to  think  that  it  was  not 
Janet  Delane — the  Janet  who  was  always  ex- 
horting him  to  noble  thoughts — who  was  proud 
in  the  pride  of  her  race — not  she  who  had  dared 
death  for  him  ;  but  that  other,  so  far  beneath 
her,  whom  she  had  not  deigned  to  think  a  rival. 
Ah,  but  why,  why  had  she  not  called  7  Surely 
God  would  have  given  her  one  moment  to  be 
glad  in,  and  that  would  have  been  enough. 

She  sat  up  in  bed,  the  coverings  falling  from 
her,  and  her  black  hair  streaming  over  her  white 
night-dress.  Clasping  her  hands  over  her 
knees,  she  looked  before  her  out  of  the  window. 
She  could  see  the  tree  where  Dale  had  stood 
and  the  spot  where  she  had  fallen  ;  she  could 
see  the  fresh  red  gravel,  put  down  to  hide  the 
stains,  and  the  gardener's  rake,  flung  down 
where  he  had  used  it.  He  must  have  gone  to 
tea — gone  to  talk  it  all  over  with  his  wife  and 
his  friends,  to  wonder  why  Miss  Janet  had  not 
called  out,  why  she  had  left  it  to  the  other  girl, 
why  she  had  fainted,  while  the  other  had  saved 
him.  Tliey  would  talk  of  "  poor  Miss  Janet," 
and  call  the  other  a  "  rare  plucked  'un  " — she 
knew  their  way.  Nobody  would  ever  call  her 
that — not  her  father  again,  who  used  to  boast 


"  THE  OTHER  GIRL  DID."  1 89 

that  Janet,  like  all  his  house,  feared  nothing  but 
dishonor,  and  would  make  as  good  a  soldier  as 
the  son  he  had  longed  for  in  vain.  Her  mother 
had  come  and  called  her  "a  brave  girl."  Why 
did  people  think  there  was  any  good  in  lies  .'* 
She  meant  it  kindly,  but  it  was  horrible  to  hear 
it.  Lies  are  no  use.  Let  them  call  her  a 
coward,  if  they  wanted  to  speak  the  truth. 
They  all  thought  that.  Dale  thought  it ;  Dale, 
who  must  be  admiring  that  other  girl's  gal- 
lantry, and  wondering  why  he  had  not  loved 
her,  instead  of  loving  a  girl  who  talked  big,  and, 
when  danger  came,  fainted — and  stood  by  to 
see  him  die. 

Of  course  he  could  not  go  on  loving  her  after 
this.  He  would  feel,  everybody  must  feel, 
that  he  owed  his  life  to  the  girl  who  had  saved 
him,  and  must  give  it  to  her.  Very  likely  he 
would  come  and  pretend  to  want  her  still.  He 
would  think  it  right  to  do  that,  though  it  would 
really  be  kinder  just  to  let  her  drop.  She  would 
understand.  Nobody  knew  he  had  spoken  to 
her ;  perhaps  nobody  need  ;  it  would  not  seem 
so  bad  to  people  who  did  not  know  she 
had  promised  to  be  his  wife.  Not  that  it  mat- 
tered much  what  people  thought.  She  knew 
what  she  was,  and — she  must  let  him  go, 
she  must  let  him  go.  And  here,  for  the  first 
time,  she  buried  her  head  in  her  pillow  and 
sobbed. 

Mrs.  Delane  came  in. 

"  Why,  Janet  dearest,  you've  nothing  over 
you  !  You'll  catch  cold.  What's  the  matter, 
darling  }     Are  you  frightened  ?  " 


igo  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

There  it  was  !  Everybody  thought  she  was 
frightened  now. 

"  There  is  a  message  from  Mr.  Bannister, 
darling.  He  wants  so  much  to  see  you,  and 
the  doctor  thinks  it  would  do  you  no  harm. 
Do  you  think  you  could  dress  and  see  him  ?  " 

"  He  wants  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  dear.  Of  course,  Jan.  I  know, 
my  dear." 

"To  leave  her  and  come  and  see  me?  " 

"  Miss  Fane  ?  Oh,  she's  going  on  very  well. 
There's  no  reason  he  shouldn't  come  over  here. 
You  would  like  to  see  him,  Jan  }  " 

"  Tell  him  to  go  away — tell  him  to  go  to  her 
— tell  him  to  leave  me  alone." 

"  But,  Jan,  dearest " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  do  leave  me  alone  !  " 

Mrs.  Delane  went  and  told  the  messenger 
that  Miss  Delane  might  see  no  one  for  a  day  or 
two ;  she  was  still  too  agitated.  Then  she 
sought  her  husband  and  told  him  of  their 
daughter's  words. 

"  She  must  be  a  little  queer  still,"  said  the 
Squire,  with  anxiety.  "  Don't  be  worried,  Mary. 
She's  a  strong  girl,  and  she'll  soon  throw  it  off." 

But  she  could  not  throw  it  off — not  that 
thought  which  had  burned  into  her  breast  ;  and 
all  night,  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  she  sat  and 
looked  at  the  tree  and  the  fresh  gravel,  the  spot 
where  her  honor  and  her  love  had  called  on  her, 
and  called  in  vain. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 
Zbe  ^Fitness  of  ZbiwQe, 

F  anything  could  have  consoled  Market 
Denborough  for  the  certain  postpone- 
ment and  possible  loss  of  the  Duke  of 
Mercia's  visit,  it  would  have  been  the 
cause  of  these  calamities.  Its  citizens  were  not 
more  hard-hearted  than  other  people,  and  they 
bestowed  much  sympathy  on  Nellie  Fane,  who, 
out  of  the  competitors,  was  easily  elected  the 
heroine  of  the  incident ;  but  neither  were  they 
more  impervious  to  the  charms  of  excitement, 
of  gossip,  and  of  notoriety.  The  reporters  and 
the  artists  who  had  been  told  off  to  describe 
and  depict  the  scene  of  the  royal  visit  did  not 
abandon  their  journey,  but  substituted  sketches 
of  the  fatal  spot,  of  the  Grange,  of  Littlehill, 
and  of  the  actors  in  the  tragedy  ;  while  inter- 
views with  the  Mayor,  and  anybody  else  who 
knew,  or  knew  someone  who  knew  about  the 
circumstances,  or  professed  to  do  either,  amply 
supplied  the  place  which  the  pageant  and  the 
speeches  had  been  destined  to  fill.  And  if  the 
occurrence  excited  such  interest  in  the  great 
London  papers,  the  broadsheets  and  columns  of 
the  local  journals  were  a  sight  to  behold.  The 
circulation  of  the  Standard  went  up  by  more 


192  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

than  a  hundred ;  while  the  Chronicle  an- 
nounced, it  must  be  admitted  to  a  somewhat 
skeptical  world,  that  its  weekly  issue  had  ex- 
hausted three  editions,  and  could  no  longer  be 
obtained  at  the  booksellers'  or  the  office.  The 
assertion,  however,  being  untested,  passed,  and 
everyone  allowed  that  young  Mingley's  detailed 
account  of  poor  Roberts'  last  words  to  Dale 
Bannister,  before  he  fired,  were  perfect  in  veri- 
similitude, which,  under  the  regrettable  circum- 
stance of  Mingley's  absence,  and  of  no  such 
words  having  been  uttered,  was  all  that  could 
be  expected.  Mingley  was  puffed  up,  demanded 
a  rise  of  salary,  got  it,  and  married  Polly  Ship- 
wright, the  young  lady  at  the  "  Delane  Arms." 
So  the  ill  wind  blew  Mingley  good.  Yet  the 
editor  of  the  Chro7ttcle\\^%  not  satisfied,  and  as 
a  further  result  of  Mingley's  activity,  he  inserted 
an  article  tlie  following  week,  in  which  he 
referred,  with  some  parade  of  mystery,  to  the 
romantic  character  of  the  affair.  It  was  not  only 
in  fiction,  he  remarked,  that  love  had  oppor- 
tunities for  displaying  itself  in  heroism,  nor,  it 
was  to  be  earnestly  hoped,  only  in  the  brains  of 
imaginative  writers  that  affection  and  gratitude 
found  themselves  working  together  toward  a 
joyful  consummation.  Denborough  knew  and 
admired  its  gifted  fellow-townsman,  and  Den- 
borough had  been  a  witness  of  the  grace  and 
charm  of  the  young  lady  who  had  shed  such 
luster  on  her  sex.  Accordingly,  Denborough 
waited  the  result  with  some  confidence.  Into 
this  personal  side  of  the  matter  the  Standard 
did  not  try  to  follow  its  rival.     Mr.  Delane  con- 


THE  FITNESS  OF  THINGS.  193 

trolled  the  Standard,  and  he  forbade  any  such 
attempt,  on  grounds  of  careful  generality.  But 
the  article  in  the  Chronicle  was  quite  enough  ; 
it  expressed  what  everyone  had  been  thinking, 
and  very  soon  the  whole  town  was  expecting  to 
hear,  simultaneously,  that  Nellie  was  out  of 
danger,  and  that  she  had  given  her  hand  to 
Dale  Bannister.  The  theory  was  so  strongly 
and  unhesitatingly  accepted  that  the  two  or 
three  who,  mainly  out  of  a  love  of  paradox,  put 
their  heads  on  one  side  and  asked  how  Miss 
Delane  came  to  be  out  in  the  garden  with  Dale 
Bannister,  were  pooh-poohed  and  told  that  they 
merely  showed  their  ignorance  of  the  usages 
of  society  ;  whereupon  they  went  home  and 
grumbled  to  their  wives,  but  were  heard  no 
more  in  public  places. 

Dale  Bannister  flung  the  Chronicle  down  on 
the  table  with  a  muttered  oath,  asking  the 
eternally-asked,  never-to-be-answered  question, 
why  people  could  not  mind  their  own  business — 
an  unjust  query  in  this  case,  for  it  is  a  reporter's 
business  to  mind  other  people's  business.  He 
had  just  come  down  from  his  first  interview 
with  Nellie.  She  was  mending  rapidly,  and 
was  now  conscious,  although  any  reference  to 
the  events  of  the  fatal  night  was  sternly  for- 
bidden ;  he  was  not  even  allowed  to  thank  the 
friend  who,  happily,  had  only  risked,  not  lost, 
her  life  for  him.  He  had  whispered  his  joy  at 
finding  her  doing  well,  and  she  had  pressed 
his  hand  in  answer ;  more  than  that  vigilant 
attendants  prevented.  Then  he  had  come 
downstairs,  picked  up  the  Chronicle  in  the  hall, 


194  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

read  the  article,  and  gone  into  the  smoking 
room,  where  he  had  found  Arthur  Angell 
sitting  by  the  fire,  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets 
and  his  shoulders  up  to  his  ears,  a  picture  of 
woe. 

"  What  infernal  nonsense  !  "  said  Dale,  with 
a  vexed  laugh.  "  Do  you  see  how  this  fellow 
disposes  of  us,  Arthur  .''  " 

"  Yes,  I  saw,"  said  Arthur  gloomily. 

"  I  suppose  they're  bound  to  say  that.  The 
public  loves  romance." 

"  I  think  it's  very  natural  they  should  say  it. 
Why  did  she  follow  you  .''  Why  did  she  risk 
her  life.'  Why  did  she  ask  after  you  the  first 
moment  she  was  conscious  ?  " 

"  No  one  but  me  was  being  murdered,"  sug- 
gested Dale,  with  a  rather  uneasy  smile. 

"  We  left  her  here.  Why  did  she  go  out  at 
all  }  But  it's  too  plain.  I  saw  it  before  I  had 
been  here  a  day." 

"  Saw  what,  man  ?  "  asked  Dale,  passing  by 
Arthur's  questionable  assertion. 

"  Why,  that  Nellie — you  know.  I  don't  know 
what  you  feel,  but  I  know  what  she  feels.  It's 
rough  on  me  having  me  down " 

"  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Dale 
quickly. 

"  Oh,    I    suppose     not ;    though    how    you 

didn't I  say,  now,  before    you    came    to 

Denborough,  didn't  you?" 

"  I — I  don't  think  so.  We  were  great 
friends." 

Arthur  shook  his  head,  and  Dale  poked  the 
little  bit  of  fire  in  an  impatient  way. 


THE  FITNESS  OF  THINGS.  IQS 

"  How  damned  crooked  things  go  ! "  he 
said. 

Arthur  rose  and  said  in  a  decided  tone  : 

"Well,  I'm  out  of  it.  She  saved  your  life, 
and  she's  in  love  with  you.  It  seems  to  me 
your  duty's  pretty  plain.  You  must  drop  your 
other  fancy." 

"  My  other  fancy  }  "  exclaimed  Dale  in  horror. 
Lived  there  a  man  who  could  call  his  love  for 
Janet  a  " fancy  "  ? 

"  You'd  break  her  heart,"  said  Arthur,  who 
thought  of  no  one  but  his  lady-love  in  his 
unselfish  devotion. 

It  crossed  Dale's  mind  to  say  that  the  situa- 
tion seemed  to  involve  the  breaking  of  one 
heart  at  least,  if  Arthur  were  right  ;  but  he 
thought  he  had  no  right  to  speak  of  Janet's 
feelings,  well  as  he  knew  them.  He  threw  the 
poker  down  with  a  clang. 

"  Take  care — you'll  disturb  her," 

This  annoyed  Dale. 

"  My  good  fellow,"  he  remarked,  "  we're  not 
all,  except  you,  entirely  indifferent  whether  she 
lives  or  dies.  I  might  throw  pokers  about  all 
day— and  I  feel  inclined  to — without  her  hear- 
ing me  in  the  blue  room," 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon,"  said  Arthur,  turning  to 
the  window  and  looking  out. 

He  saw  a  stout  man  coming  up  the  hill.  It 
was  the  Mayor  of  Denborough,  and  he  was 
evidently  making  for  Littlehill.  When  he  was 
ushered  into  the  smoking  room,  he  explained 
that  he  had  come  to  ask  after  Miss  Fane's 
progress. 


10  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  The  town,  Mr.  Bannister,  sir,"  he  said,  "  is 
takin'  a  great  interest  in  the  young  lady." 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  she  has,  we  think,  turned 
the  corner,"  said  Dale. 

"  That's  happy  news  for  all — and  you  first  of 
all,  sir." 

The  Mayor  might  merely  have  meant  that 
Dale's  feelings  would  be  most  acute,  as  Nellie 
had  received  her  wound  in  his  service ;  but 
there  was  a  disconcerting  twinkle  in  the  Mayor's 
eye. 

"  Mrs,  Roberts,"  the  Mayor  continued,  "  is 
doin'  first  rate.  After  all,  it's  a  riddance  for 
her,  sir.  Have  you  any  news  from  the 
Grange  ?  " 

"  I  hear  there  is  no  change  in  Miss  Delane. 
She  still  suffers  from  the  shock." 

"  Poor  young  lady !  I  hear  the  Captain's 
back  at  the  Warren,  sir." 

"What?" 

"  Captain  Ripley,  sir.     Back  at  home." 

"  Oh  !  " 

The  Mayor  was  bursting  with  suppressed 
gossip  on  this  point  also,  but  the  atmosphere 
was  most  repressive.  He  looked  round  in 
despair  for  another  opening,  and  his  eye  fell 
on  Arthur  Angell. 

"  Seen  the  Chronicle,  sir  ?  "  he  asked.  "  That 
Mingley's  a  sharp  young  chap.  Still  I  don't 
'old— hold  with  all  that  talk  about  people. 
Did  you  say  you'd  seen  it,  sir?" 

"  Yes,  I've  seen  it.     It's  mostly  lies." 

"He,  he!"  chuckled  the  Mayor.  "You're 
right,  sir." 


THE  FITNESS  OF  THINGS.  197 

A  long  pause  ensued  before  the  Mayor  very 
reluctantly  took  his  hat. 

"  I  hope  we  shall  see  Miss  Fane  about  soon, 
sir  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  hope  so.  I  think  so,  if  nothing  goes 
wrong." 

"  She  must  be  proud  and  happy,  that  young 
lady,  sir.  As  I  said  to  my  daughters,  says  I  : 
'  Now,  girls,  which  of  you  is  goin'  to  save  your 
young  man's.life  }  '  And  my  wife,  Mrs.  Hedger, 
sir,  she  put  in  :  '  None  of  you,  I'll  be  bound,  if 
you  don't 

The  anecdote  was  lost,  for  Dale  interrupted : 

"  Let  me  see  you  as  far  as  the  gate,"  and 
pushed  the  Mayor's  walking-stick  into  his 
hand. 

Having  got  rid  of  the  Mayor,  Dale  did  not 
hasten  to  return  to  Arthur  Angell.  At  this 
moment,  exasperated  as  he  was,  everything 
about  his  friend  annoyed  him — his  devotion,  his 
unselfishness,  his  readiness  to  accept  defeat 
himself,  his  indiscreet  zeal  on  behalf  of  his  mis- 
tress. His  despair  for  himself,  and  his  exhorta- 
tion to  Dale,  joined  in  manifesting  that  he 
neither  possessed  himself  nor  could  understand 
in  another  what  a  real  passion  was.  If  he  did 
or  could,  he  would  never  have  used  that  word 
"  fancy."  How  could  people  speak  of  friend- 
ship or  gratitude,  or  both  together,  as  if  they 
were,  or  were  in  themselves  likely  to  lead  to, 
love  ?  You  did  not  love  a  woman  because  you 
esteemed  her.  If  you  loved  her,  you  might 
esteem  her — or  you  might  not ;  anyhow,  you 
worshiped  her.    Yet  these  peddling  Denborough 


1 93  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

folk  were  mapping-  out  his  course  for  him. 
And  Arthur  Angell  croaked  about  broken 
hearts. 

Suddenly  a  happy  thought  struck  him,  a 
thought  which  went  far  to  restore  his  equanim- 
ity. These  people,  even  that  excellent  Arthur, 
spoke  in  ignorance.  At  the  most,  they — those 
who  knew  anything — supposed  that  he  had  a 
"  fancy  "  for  Janet.  They  had  no  idea  that  his 
love  had  been  offered  and  accepted,  that  he 
was  plighted  to  her  by  all  the  bonds  of  honor 
and  fidelity.  This  exacting  gratitude  they 
harped  upon  might  demand  a  change  of  nascent 
inclinations;  it  would  not  require,  nor  even 
justify,  broken  promises,  and  the  flinging  back 
of  what  a  man  had  asked  for  and  received. 
Dale's  step  grew  more  elastic  and  his  face 
brighter  as  he  realized  that,  in  reality,  on  a  sane 
view  of  the  position,  duty  and  pleasure  went 
hand  in  hand,  both  pointing  to  the  desired  goal, 
uniting  to  free  him  from  any  such  self-sacrifice 
as  Arthur  Angell  had  indicated.  If  Arthur 
were  right  about  Nellie's  feelings,  and  if  he  had 
been  a  free  man,  he  might  have  felt  some  obliga- 
tion on  him,  or  at  least  have  chosen,  to  make 
the  child  happy,  but  as  it  was 

"  I  must  be  just  before  I'm  generous,"  he 
said  to  himself,  and  added,  with  a  shamefaced 
laugh,  "and  I  happen  to  like  justice  best." 

At  this  moment  a  servant  in  the  Grange 
livery  rode  up,  touching  his  hat,  and  handed 
him  a  note.  It  was  from  Janet,  though  her  writ- 
ing was  so  tremulous  as  to  be  scarcely  recogniz- 
able.    He  tore  it  open  and  read  ; 


THE  FITNESS  OF  THINGS.  199 

You  can  never  wish  to  see  me  again,  but  come  once 
more.     It  was  not  quite  as  bad  as  it  seemed.  J. 

In  bewilderment  he  turned  to  the  man, 

"  Miss  Delane  sent  this  .''  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Say  I'll  come  over  to  the  Grange  to-morrow 
morning." 

The  man  rode  off,  and  Dale  stood,  fingering 
and  staring  at  his  note. 

"  What  does  the  dear  girl  mean  ?"  he  asked. 
"  What  wasn't  so  bad  ?  Why  don't  I  wish  to 
see  her  again  ?  Has  that  ruffian  driven  her  out 
of  her  senses  ?  " 

When  Dr.  Spink  came  that  evening.  Dale 
seized  the  opportunity  of  sounding  him.  The 
Doctor  laughed  at  the  idea  of  any  serious 
mental  derangement. 

"  Miss  Delane's  very  much  upset,  of  course, 
very  much,  but  her  mind  is  as  right  as  yours  or 
mine." 

"  She's  got  no  delusions  ?  " 

"Oh,  dear,  no.  She's  nervous  and  over- 
strained, that's  all.  She'll  be  all  right  in  "a  few 
days." 

"  Then,"  said  Dale  to  himself,  as  the  Doctor 
bustled  off,  "  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  don't  under- 
stand women." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

B  /nborblO  Scruple. 


RS.  DELANE  had  ceased  to  struggle 
against  the  inevitable,  and  she  hailed 
her  daughter's  desire  to  see  Dale  Ban- 
nister as  an  encouraging  sign  of  a  re- 
turn to  a  normal  state  of  mind.  Strange  as 
Janet's  demeanor  had  been  since  that  fearful 
evening,  there  could  not  be  anything  seriously 
wrong  with  her  when  her  wishes  and  impulses 
ran  in  so  natural  a  channel.  Mrs.  Delane  re- 
ceived Dale  with  an  approach  to  enthusiasm, 
and  sent  him  up  to  the  little  boudoir  where 
Janet  was  with  an  affectionate  haste  which  in 
itself  almost  amounted  to  a  recognition  of  his 
position. 

"  You  must  be  gentle  with  her,  please,  Mr. 
Bannister,"  she  said.  "  She  wanted  so  much  to 
see  for  herself  that  you  were  really  alive  that 
we  could  not  refuse  to  allow  her,  but  the  Doctor 
is  most  strict  in  ordering  that  she  should  not 
be  excited." 

Dale  promised  to  be  careful,  and  went  up- 
stairs without  a  word  about  the  strange  note  he 
had  received  ;  that  was  a  matter  between  Janet 
and  himself. 

Janet  was  sitting,  propped  up  with  cushions, 


A  MORBID  SCRUPLE.  201 

on  a  low  chair,  and  she  waved  Dale  to  a  seat 
near  her.  When,  before  sitting  down,  he  came 
to  her  and  kissed  her,  she  did  not  repel  his 
caress,  but  received  it  silently,  again  motioning 
him  to  the  chair.  Dale  knelt  down  on  the  floor 
beside  her. 

"  How  pale  you  are,  poor  dear !  "  he  said. 
"  And  why  do  you  w-rite  me  such  dreadful 
things.'' " 

"I  wanted,"  she  began  in  a  low  voice,  "to 
tell  you,  Dale,  that  I  did  try,  that  I  really  did 
try,  to  call  out.  I  did  not  forsake  you  without 
trying." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  darling  ?  How  have 
you  forsaken  me  }  " 

"  When  he  caught  hold  of  me,  there  was 
plenty  of  time  to  call  out.  I  might  have  warned 
you — I  might  have  warned  you.  I  might  have 
done  what  she  did.  But  I  couldn't.  I  tried, 
but  I  couldn't,  I  was  afraid.  He  said  he 
would  blow  my  head  to  bits.  I  was  afraid,  and 
I  left  her  to  save  you." 

"  My  dearest  girl,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand, 
"  you  did  the  only  thing.  If  you  had  cried  out, 
he  would  have  murdered  you  first  and  me  after- 
ward ;  all  the  chambers  of  the  rev'olver  were 
loaded.  I  would  have  died  a  thousand  times 
sooner  than  have  one  of  your  dear  hairs  rough- 
ened ;  but,  as  it  was,  your  death  wouldn't  have 
saved  me." 

She  had  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  if 
with  sudden  hope,  but,  as  he  finished,  she  shook 
her  head  and  said: 

"  I  didn't  think  anything  about  that.     I  was 


202  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

just  afraid,  and  I  should  have  let  you  be 
killed." 

"  My  sweet,  who  ever  expected  you  to  con- 
demn yourself  to  certain  death  on  the  chance  of 
saving  me  ?     It  would  be  monstrous  !  " 

"  She  did  it,"  said  Janet  in  low  tones. 

Dale  paused  for  a  minute. 

"  She  was  not  in  his  clutches,"  he  said.  "  He 
might  have  missed  her." 

"  Ah,  no,  no ! "  she  broke  out  suddenly. 
"  You  run  down  what  she  did  to  spare  me  ! 
That's  worst  of  all." 

"  Why,  Jan,  I  don't  say  a  word  against  her; 
but  there  was  a  difference." 

"  She  thought  of  no  difference.  She  only 
thought  of  you.     I  thought  of  my  own  life." 

"  Thank  God  if  you  did,  dearest !  " 

"  I'm  glad  you  came.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  I 
had  tried." 

"  I  need  nothing  to  make  me  love  you  more, 
my  beauty  and  delight,"  he  said,  pressing  her 
to  him. 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of  amazement, 
making  a  faint  effort  to  push  him  away. 

"  It  was  so  lucky,"  he  went  on,  "  that  I  didn't 
see  you,  or  I  should  have  rushed  at  him,  and 
he  would  most  likely  have  killed  you.  As  it 
was "  He  paused,  for  it  seemed  impossi- 
ble to  speak  of  poor  Nellie's  hurt  as  a  happy 
outcome. 

"  Come,"  he  resumed,  "  let's  think  no  more 
about  it.  The  wretched  man  is  dead  and 
Nellie  Fane  is  getting  better,  and  we — why,  we, 
Jan,  have  one  another." 


A  MORBID  SCRUPLE.  203 

With  sudden  impatience  she  rose,  unlacing 
his  arms  from  about  her. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Who  is  she  ? 
Why  should  she  give  her  life  for  you  ?  I  loved 
you,  and  I  was  afraid.     She  wasn't  afraid." 

Dale  thought  that  he  began  to  understand 
a  little  better.  Jealousy  was  a  feeling  he  had 
read  about,  and  seen,  and  written  about.  If  Jan 
were  jealous,  he  could  undertake  to  reassure 
her. 

"  She's  a  very  old  and  good  friend  of  mine," 
he  said,  "  and  it  was  just  like  her  brave,  unself- 
ish way  to " 

"  What  had  you  done  to  make  her  love  you 
so  ?  " 

"  My  sweetest  Jan,  surely  you  can't  think 
I " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  I  don't  mean  that.  I'm 
not  so  mean  as  that." 

Dale  wondered  whether  this  passionate  dis- 
claimer of  jealousy  did  not  comfe  in  part  from 
self-delusion,  though  he  saw  that  Janet  made  it 
in  all  genuineness. 

"  You  have  made  her  love  you — oh,  of  course 
you  have  !  Why  did  she  follow  you  ?  why  did 
she  come  between  you  and  the  shot  ?  I  loved 
you,  too.  Dale.  Ah !  how  I  loved — how  I 
thought  I  loved  you  !  But  her  love  was  greater 
than  mine." 

"  Come,  Jan,  come ;  you  exaggerate.  You 
must  be  calm,  dearest.  Nellie  and  I  are  very 
fond  of  one  another,  but " 

"  You  know  she  loves  you — you  know  she 
loves  you  to  death." 


204  A  CHANGE  OF  A/R. 

"  My  darling,  I  don't  know  anything  of  the 
sort.  But  supposing  she  did — well,  I  am  very 
sorry,  very  deeply  grieved  if  she  is  unhappy  ; 
but  I  don't  love  her — or  any  other  woman  in 
the  world  but  you,  Jan.  If  she  had  sav'ed  my 
life  a  thousand  times,  it  would  make  no  differ- 
ence. You,  Jan,  you  are  the  breath  of  my  life 
and  the  pulse  of  my  blood." 

He  spoke  with  passion,  for  he  was  roused  to 
combat  this  strange  idea  that  threatened  all  his 
joy.  As  she  stood  before  him,  in  her  fairness 
and  distress,  he  forgot  his  searchings  of  heart, 
his  tenderness  for  Nellie,  everything,  except 
that  she,  and  she  alone,  was  the  woman  to  be 
his,  and  neither  another  nor  she  herself  should 
prevent  it. 

Looking  at  him,  she  read  this,  or  some  of  it, 
in  his  eyes,  for  she  shrank  back  from  him,  and, 
clasping  her  hands,  moaned  : 

"Don't,  don't!  You  must  go  to  her — you 
belong  to  her.  She  saved  you,  not  I.  You  are 
hers,  not  mine." 

"Jan,  this  is  madness!  She  is  nothing  to 
me  ;  you  are  all  the  world." 

"  You  must  despise  me,"  she  said  in  a  won- 
dering way,  "  and  yet  you  say  that !  " 

"  If  I  did  despise  you,  still  it  would  be  true. 
But  I  worship  you." 

"  I  must  not !  I  must  not !  You  must  go  to 
her.  She  saved  you.  Leave  me.  Dale,  and  go 
back.     You  must  not  come  again." 

He  burst  out  in  wrath  : 

"Now,  by  God,  I  will  not  leave  you' or  let 
you  go  !     Mine  you  are,  and   mine   you   shall 


A  MORBID  SCRUPLE.  20$ 

be ! "  and  he  seized  her  by  the  wrist.  She 
gave  a  startled  cry  that  recalled  him  to  gentle- 
ness. 

"Did  I  frighten  you,  my  beauty?  But  it  is 
so,  and  it  must  be.  It  is  sweet  of  you  to  offer — 
to  make  much  of  what  she  did,  and  little  of 
yourself.  I  love  you  more  for  it.  But  we  have 
done  with  that  now.     Come  to  me,  Jan." 

"  I  can't !  I  can't !  She  would  always  be 
between  us ;  I  should  always  see  her  between 
us.     O  Dale,  how  can  you  leave  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  loved  her.  I  have  never 
promised  her,"  he  replied  sternly.  "  It  is  all  a 
mere  delusion.  A  man's  love  is  not  to  be  turned 
by  folly  like  this," 

She  answered  nothing,  and  sank  back  in  her 
chair  again. 

"  If  it's  jealousy,"  he  went  on,  "  it  is  unworthy 
of  you,  and  an  insult  to  me.  And  if  it's  not 
jealousy,  it's  mere  madness." 

"  Can't  you  understand  .''  "  she  murmured. 
"  How  can  I  take  what  is  hers  }  " 

"  I  can  take  what  is  mine,  and  I  will.  You 
gave  yourself  to  me,  and  I  will  not  let 
you   go." 

Still  she  said  nothing,  and  he  tried  gentleness 
once  more. 

"  Come,  Jan,  sweetest,  you  have  made  your 
offering — your  sweet.  Quixotic  self-sacrifice — 
and  it  is  not  accepted  !  Say  that's  my  want  of 
moral  altitude,  if  you  like.  So  be  it.  I  won't 
sacrifice  myself." 

"  It's  for  her  to  take,  not  for  you.  I  offer  it 
to  her,  not  to  you." 


206  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  But  I  don't  offer  it  to  her.  Would  she  care 
for  such  an  offer?  She  may  love  me  or  not — I 
don't  know  ;  but  if  she  does,  she  will  not  take 
my  hand  without  my  heart." 

"  You  must  love  her.  If  you  could  love  me, 
how  much  more  must  you  love  her?  " 

"  You  are  mad  !  "  he  answered,  almost 
roughly,  "  mad  to  say  such  a  thing !  I  know 
you  love  me,  and  I  will  not  listen  to  it.  Do 
you  hear  ?  I  shall  come  back  and  see  you 
again,  and  I  will  not  listen  to  this." 

She  heard  his  imperious  words  with  no  sign 
but  a  little  shiver. 

"  There,"  he  went  on,  "  you  are  still  ill.  I'll 
come  back." 

"  No  use,"  she  murmured.     "  I  can't,  Dale." 

"  But  you  will,  and  you  shall  !  "  he  cried. 
"You  shall  see " 

The  door  opened,  and  the  nurse  came  in  to 
forbid  his  further  lingering.  With  a  distant 
good-by,  he  left  Janet  motionless  and  pale,  and, 
hastening  downstairs,  went  to  the  Squire's 
room. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  to  ask 
your  sanction  to  my  engagement  with  your 
daughter." 

The  Squire  laid  down  his  book. 

"  I'm  not  much  surprised,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  What  does  Jan  say  ?  " 

Dale  launched  out  into  a  history  of  the  sweet 
things  Janet  had  said,  and  of  the  strange,  wild 
things  she  said  now.  The  Squire  heard  of  the 
latter  with  raised  eyebrows. 

"  Very  odd,"  he  commented.    "  But  it  seems. 


A  MORBID  SCRUPLE.  201 

my  dear  fellow,  that,  for  good  reasons  or  bad, 
at  present  she  says  No." 

"  She  said  Yes;  she  can't  say  No  now,"  de- 
clared Dale.     "  Do  you  consent,  Mr.  Delane  ?  " 

"  If  she  does,  my  dear  fellow.  But  I  can't 
help  you  in  this  matter." 

"  I  want  no  help.  She  is  not  in  her  senses 
now.  I  shall  make  an  end  of  this  folly.  I  will 
not  have  it." 

He  went  out  as  abruptly  as  he  had  rushed  in, 
leaving  the  Squire  in  some  perplexity. 

"  A  man  of  decision,"  he  commented  ;  "  and, 
altogether,  a  couple  of  rather  volcanic  young 
people.  They  must  settle  it  between  them- 
selves." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Ebe  Ibcxolne  of  tbe  UnclDent. 

FTER  Dale's  visit  to  the  Grange  a  few 
days  elapsed  in  a  quiet  that  was  far 
from  peaceful.  Dale  had  gone  to  the 
Grange  the  next  day,  and  the  day 
after  that  :  the  sight  of  Janet  had  been  denied 
to  him.  He  was  told  that  his  visit  had  left  her 
very  agitated  and  upset,  and  the  doctor  was 
peremptory  in  forbidding  any  repetition  of  it. 
He  had  sent  her  a  note,  and  she  had  returned 
a  verbal  message  by  her  mother  that  she  did 
not  feel  equal  to  writing.  Was  it  possible  that 
she  meant  to  abide  by  her  insane  resolve  to 
break    off   their   engagement  ? 

At  Littlehill  things  were  hardly  more  happy. 
Nellie  was  recovering,  but  very  slowly,  and  she 
also  remained  invisible.  Arthur  Angell  mani- 
fested all  the  symptoms  of  resentment  and  dis- 
appointed love,  and  only  Philip  Hume's  usual 
placid  cheerfulness  redeemed  the  house  from  an 
atmosphere  of  intolerable  depression.  Philip 
had  discovered  a  fund  of  amusement  in  the 
study  of  Mrs.  Hodge.  As  soon  as  that  good 
lady's  first  apprehensions  were  soothed,  she  was 
seized  with  an  immense  and  exuberant  pride  in 
her  daughter,  which  found  expression  both  in 

3o8 


THE  HEROINE  OF  THE  INCIDENT.        209 

her  words  and  her  bearing.  Though  ignorant 
of  the  historical  precedent,  she  assumed  the 
demeanor  of  a  mother  of  the  Gracchi,  and 
pointed  out  to  all  wlio  would  listen  to  her — and 
Philip  never  thought  of  refusing  her  this  kind- 
ness— small  incidents  and  traits  of  character 
which  had  marked  out  Nellie  from  her  very 
cradle  as  one  of  heroic  mold  and  dauntless 
courage. 

"  I  should  be  astonished,  if  I  did  not  know 
her  mother,"  said  Philip  politely. 

"  Ah,  you  must  be  chaffing,  of  course.  But 
it's  not  me  she  takes  it  from.  My  heart  goes 
pit-a-pat  at  a  mouse." 

"  Oh,  then  it's  Mr.  Hodge." 

"You  couldn't,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge  with  em- 
phasis, "  catch  Hodge  at  a  loss.  He  was  ready 
for  anything.  He'd  have  been  proud  to  see 
Nellie  to-day.  Look  what  the  papers  are 
saying  of  her  !  " 

"  I'm  sure  she  deserves  it  all." 

"  Aye,  that  she  does :  she  deser\^es  all  Dale 
Bannister  can  do  for  her." 

Philip  scented  danger  in  this  topic,  and 
changed  the  subject. 

"  When  are  we  to  see  her  }  "  he  asked. 

"  In  a  day  or  two,  I  expect.  She's  much  better 
this  morning.  She's  asked  to  see  the  papers, 
and  I'm  going  to  take  her  the  C/ironzcle." 

"  How  delightful  to  read  of  one's  heroic  ac- 
tions !     I  have  never  enjoyed  the  sensation." 

"  Nor  ever  will,  young  man,  if  you  spend 
all  your  time  loafing,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge  in- 
cisively. 


2IO  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Well,  there  must  be  some  ordinary  people," 
protested  Philip.  "  The  role  is  unappreciated, 
so  it's  the  more  creditable  in  me  to  stick  to  it." 

"  A  parcel  of  nonsense !  Where's  that 
paper  .^  " 

She  took  it,  went  upstairs,  and  gave  it  to 
Nellie. 

"  There,  read  that.  See  what  they  say  about 
you,  my  dearie.  I'm  going  to  see  little  Roberts, 
and  I  shall  be  back  in  an  hour.  You've  got 
the  bell  by  you,  and  the  nurse  '11  hear  you." 

Nellie,  left  alone,  began  to  read  the  CJn-oniclc. 
She  read  the  whole  account  from  beginning  to 
end,  the  article  in  praise  of  her,  and,  in  the 
later  edition,  the  editor's  romantic  forecast. 
Then  she  put  the  papers  aside,  exclaiming : 
"  Oh,  if  it  could  be  true  !  "  and  lay  back  with 
closed  eyes. 

A  few  days  later  she  made  her  first  appear- 
ance in  the  drawing  room,  where  she  held  a 
little  court.  Her  mother  hung  over  all,  antici- 
pating far  more  wants  than  the  patient  was 
likely  to  feel,  and  by  constant  anxious  questions 
almost  producing  the  fatigue  she  wished  to 
guard  against.  Tora  Smith  was  there,  in  a  state 
of  gleeful  adoration  ;  and  Arthur  Angell,  his 
sorrows  temporarily  laid  aside,  ready  with  a 
mock  heroic  ode  ;  and  Philip  Hume,  new  come 
from  Mrs.  Roberts'  with  good  news  and  a  high 
eulogy  on  Dr.  Spink's  most  marked  and  assidu- 
ous attention. 

"  I  really  believe,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh, 
"  that  Mrs.  Roberts  will  have  another  chance  of 
being  a  Denborough  doctor's  wife,  if  she  likes." 


THE  HEROINE  OF  THE  INCIDENT.        211 

"That  would  be  an  ideal  ending,"  said  Tora. 

"  Therefore  it  will  not  happen,"  Arthur  re- 
marked. 

"  Poets  are  allowed  to  be  pessimistic,"  re- 
joined Tora.  "  But  you're  wrong,  Mr.  Angell. 
Ideal  things  do  happen." 

"To  Sir  Harry  Fulmer,  for  instance,"  put  in 
Philip. 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Hume  !  I  wasn't  thinking 
of  that.     Don't  you  agree  with  me,  Nellie  ?  " 

"  Nellie  has  made  an  ideal  thing  happen," 
said  Philip,  and  Nellie  blushed. 

"  Thanks,  Phil,"  said  Dale.  "  It's  compli- 
mentary to  describe  the  prolongation  of  my 
poor  existence  in  that  way." 

"The  deed  is  good,  however  unworthy  the 
object.  Dale." 

Dale  took  Nellie's  hand  ar.d  patted  it  gently. 

"Good  child,"  he  said,  and  Nellie  flushed 
again  with  an  almost  strange  intensity  of  em- 
barrassment. Tora  rose  abruptly,  and,  in  spite 
of  opposition,  insisted  on  departure.  Dale 
escorted  her  to  her  carriage. 

"  I  have  asked  Nellie  to  come  and  stay  with 
me,"  said  she,  "as  soon  as  she  is  well  enough 
to  move." 

"  She  will  like  that.     I  hope  she  is  going .''  " 

"She  said,"  Tora  went  on,  speaking  with 
emphasis,  "  that  she  would  ask  you." 

Dale  made  a  little  gesture  of  protest,  partly 
against  Nellie's  reported  saying,  more  against 
the  reporter's  inquiring  gaze.  He  began  to  be 
astonished  at  the  interest  he  w^as  so  unfortunate 
as  to  inspire  in  his  affairs. 


212  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  I  shall  advise  her  to  go,"  he  said.  "  I  think 
a  change  will  be  good  for  her." 

•'  I  incline  to  think  so  too,"  said  Tora  with 
sudden  coldness  ;  "  but  I  thought  you  might  not 
like  to  part  with  her." 

"  Mount  Pleasant  is  not  inaccessible,"  re- 
sponded Dale  with  equal  coldness.  Returning 
to  the  house,  he  found  Nellie  gone,  the  com- 
pany dispersed,  and  Mrs.  Hodge  in  his  smok- 
ing room,  apparently  expecting  him. 

"  Well,  mother,"  he  said, — he  had  used  to 
call  her  "  mother  "  when  he  was  always  running 
in  and  out  of  her  house  in  London, — "  Nellie 
looks  quite  blooming." 

"  She's  mending  nicely." 

"  I  hear  she's  to  go  to  the  Smiths'." 

"  Well,  I  thought  of  taking  her  to  Brigh- 
ton." 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  more  amusing  at  the  Smiths' ; 
unless,  of  course,  she  needs  the  sea." 

"  She  thought,  or  I  thought  rather,  that  you 
might  like  to  come  with  us  for  a  while  .^"  said 
Mrs.  Hodge  in  a  tentative  tone. 

"  I  can't  get  away, "answered  Dale  decisively. 
Nothing  would  have  taken  him  away  from  the 
Grange  gates. 

Mrs.  Hodge  took  her  courage  in  both  hands. 

"  Look  here.  Dale,"  she  said.  "  You  know 
I'm  not  one  of  those  women  that  lay  hold  of  a 
man  if  he  as  much  as  looks  at  a  girl,  and  asks 
him  what  he  means  by  it.  That's  not  my  way. 
Hodge  used  to  say  girls  could  take  care  of 
themselves  mostly — p'r'aps  he  wasn't  far  out. 
But   Nellie's   not   that   sort,   and   her  father's 


THE  HEROINE  OF  THE  INCIDENT.        213 

gone,   good   man,  and "  and   the  excellent 

lady  came  to  a  full  stop. 

Dale  loved  this  honest  old  woman  for  long 
acquaintance'  sake  and  much  kindness.  He 
laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  said  : 

"It's  a  sad  world,  mother." 

"  The  child's  fond  of  you,  Dale.  She's  shown 
that." 

"  I'm  a  crossed  lover  too,  mother.  We  can 
only  weep  together." 

"  What,  you  mean  that  Grange  girl  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Hodge,  her  love  for  her  own  making  her 
tone  tart. 

"Yes,  that  Grange  girl," answered  Dale,  with 
a  rueful  smile.  "  And  just  at  present  that 
Grange  girl  won't  have  anything  to  say  to 
me." 

Mrs.  Hodge  pressed  his  hand  and  whispered  : 

"  Don't  you  tell  Nellie  what  I  say,  but  let  her 
go,  dearie,  and  take  my  girl.  She's  sick  for 
you.  Dale,  though  she'd  kill  me  if  she  heard  me 
say  it." 

"Aye,  but  I'm  sick  for  the  Grange  girl, 
mother." 

"  You  don't  take  it  ill  of  me.  Dale  ?  But 
there !  a  kind  word  from  you  is  more  than  the 
doctors  to  her.  She'd  say  nothing  of  what 
she's  done,  and  I  say  nothing,  but  she's  a  good 
girl,  and  a  pretty  girl." 

"  That  she  is,  and  she  deserves  a  better  man 
than  I  am." 

"  Well,  there  it  is  !  Talking  mends  no  holes," 
said  Mrs.  Hodge,  with  a  heavy  sigh.  Then  she 
added,  in  an  outburst  of  impatience  : 


214  A   CM  A  NGE  OF  A IR. 

"  Why  did  you  ever  come  to  this  miserable 
little  place  ?  " 

Dale  raised  inquiring  hands  to  heaven  and 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  What  they  call  fate,  mother,"  said  he. 
"  Come,  cheer  up.  She'll  get  over  this  little 
idea.     She'll  be  all  right." 

"  Please  God,"  said  Mrs.  Hodge.  "  It's  time 
for  her  beef-tea." 

The  phrase  Please  God  is  as  a  rule  express- 
ive of  the  speaker's  desire,  but  not  of  his  ex- 
pectation. So  it  was  with  Mrs.  Hodge,  but 
Dale  could  not  bring  himself  to  take  so  gloomy 
a  view.  A  man's  own  passion  assumes  a  most 
imposing  appearance  of  permanence,  but  he 
finds  it  easy  to  look  with  incredulity  on  a  like 
assumption  in  the  feelings  of  others.  He  had 
keen  sympathy  for  Nellie  in  the  moment  or  the 
period  of  pain  which  seemed  to  lie  before  her, 
but  experience  told  him  that  all  probabilities 
were  in  favor  of  her  escaping  from  it  at  no  dis- 
tant time.  Love  like  his  for  Janet — and,  till 
this  unhap])y  day,  he  would  have  added,  Janet's 
for  him — was  exceptional ;  change,  recovery, 
oblivion — these  were  the  rule,  the  happy  rule 
whose  operation  smoothed  love's  rough  ways. 

Nevertheless,  be  this  wide  philosophical  view 
as  just  as  it  might,  the  present  position  came 
nigh  to  being  intolerable,  and  it  was  hard  to 
blame  him  if  he  looked  forward  to  Nellie's  de- 
parture with  relief.  Her  presence  accused  him 
of  cruelty,  for  it  seems  cruel  to  refuse  what 
would  give  happiness,  and  it  increased  every 
day  it  continued  the  misunderstanding  which 


THE  HEROINE  OF  THE  'NCI DENT.        21 5 

already  existed  as  to  their  future  relations. 
Even  now,  in  spite  of  Janet's  protest,  Dale  was 
convinced  he  had  detected  an  undercurrent  of 
jealousy,  flowing  in  to  re-enforce  the  stream  of 
that  higher,  but  stranger  and  wilder,  feeling 
which  had  made  her  drive  him  away.  If  she 
heard  that  Nellie  remained  at  his  house,  and 
what  conclusion  was  universally  drawn  from 
the  fact,  he  was  afraid  that,  when  restored 
health  carried- away  the  morbid  idea  which  was 
now  most  prominent,  the  jealousy  might  remain, 
and,  if  it  did,  Janet's  proud  nature  was  ground 
on  which  it  would  bear  fruit  bitter  for  him  to 
taste. 

He  could  not  and  did  not  for  a  moment 
blame  Mrs.  Hodge  for  her  action.  It  w^as  the 
natural  outcofne  of  her  love,  and  she  had  per- 
formed her  difficult  task,  as  it  seemed  to  him, 
with  a  perfect  observance  of  all  the  essential 
marks  of  good  breeding,  howev'er  homely  her 
method  had  been.  But  she  could  not  under- 
stand even  his  love  for  Janet,  much  less  another 
feeling  in  him,  which  aided  to  make  her  inter- 
cession vain.  For  he  did  not  deny  now  that, 
besides  the  joy  he  had  in  Janet  as  a  woman 
merely,  there  was  also  the  satisfaction  he  de- 
rived from  the  fact  that  she  was  Miss  Delane 
of  Dirkham  Grange.  Fools  and  would-be  cynics 
might  dismiss  this  as  snobbery  ;  but  Dale  told 
himself  that  he  was  right  and  wise  in  clinging 
to  the  place  in  this  new  world  which  his  sojourn 
at  Denborough  had  opened  to  him,  and  which 
a  marriage  with  Janet  would  secure  for  him  in 
perpetuity.     Setting  aside  altogether  questions 


2l6  A   CUAXGE  OF  AIR. 

of  sentiment,  he  felt  it  useless  not  to  recognize 
that,  if  he  manied  Nellie  Fane,  he  would  drift 
back  into  his  old  world,  the  gates  would  clcfse 
again,  and  the  fresh  realms  of  life  and  experi- 
ence, which  had  delighted  his  taste  and  stimu- 
lated his  genius,  would  be  his  to  wander  in  no 
more.  He  had  grown  to  love  this  world,  this 
old  world  so  new  to  him  ;  and  he  loved  Janet 
not  least  because  all  about  her,  her  face,  her 
speech,  her  motions,  her  every  air,  were  redolent 
to  him  of  its  assured  distinction  and  unboastful 
pride.  Nay,  even  these  fantastic  scruples  of 
hers  were  but  a  distortion  of  a  noble  instinct 
born  in  her  blood,  and  witnessed  to  a  nature 
and  qualities  that  he  could  look  for  only  in  the 
shade  of  some  such  place  as  Dirkham  Grange. 
He  felt  as  if  he  too  belonged  to  her  race,  and 
had  been  all  his  life  an  exile  from  his  native 
land,  whither  at  last  a  happy  chance  bad  led 
back  his  wandering  feet.  What  would  dear  old 
Mother  Hodge  understand  of  all  that  ?  What 
even  would  Nellie  herself,  for  all  her  ready 
sympathies  ?  It  was  a  feeling  that,  not  vulgar 
in  itself,  seemed  to  become  vulgar  in  the  telling; 
and,  after  all,  he  had  no  need  of  other  justifica- 
tion than  his  love  and  his  pledged  word. 

He  looked  out  of  the  window  and  saw  Arthur 
Angell  walking  moodily  up  and  down.  Putting 
on  his  hat,  he  joined  him,  passing  his  arm 
through  his.  Arthur  turned  to  him  with  a 
petulant  look. 

"  A  lot  of  miserables  we  are,  old  boy,"  said 
Dale,  pressing  the  arm  he  held.  "  I  am  often 
tempted  to  regret,  Arthur,  that  the  state  has 


THE  HEROIN R  OF  THE  INCIDENT.       217 

not  charged  itself  with  the  control  of  marriages. 
It  would  relieve  us  all  of  a  large  amount  of 
trouble,  and  I  really  don't  see  that  it  would 
hurt  anyone  except  novelists.  I  am  feeling 
badly  in  need  of  a  benevolent  despotism." 

"  I'm  going  back  to  town,"  Arthur  an- 
nounced   abruptly. 

"  I'm  very  sorry.  But  I  don't  know  that  it's 
any  use  asking  you  to  stay.  Nellie  goes  to  the 
Smiths'  in  a  day  or  two " 

"  It  makes  no  difference  to  me  where  she 
goes,"  interrupted  the  unhappy  young  man. 
"  I — I  mean " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean." 

Philip  came  up,  and  glanced  keenly  at 
Arthur.  Then  he  smiled  good-humoredly  and 
said  : 

"  Shall  I  prophesy  unto  you  }  " 

"  No,"  said  Arthur.  "  I  know  you're  going 
to  say  it  '11  be  all  the  same  six  months  hence." 

"  I  was.  I  can't  deny  it,  Arthur.  You  for- 
get that  I  have  seen  you  like  this  many  times 
before.  We  may  have  a  tragedy  or  we  may 
not,  Arthur,  but  I  shall  take  leave  to  eliminate 
you  from  the  cast." 

"  I'm  going  to  pack,"  said  Arthur  angrily,  and 
he  went  into  the  house. 

"  When  there  are  real  troubles  about,"  said 
Philip,  "  it  is  well  to  clear  the  ground.  There's 
not  much  the  matter  with  him." 

•  I  think  he  feels  it  rather,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  it's  worth  a  set  of  verses." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it's  no  worse ;  for,  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  Phil,  there's  enough  to  w^orry 


2l8  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

about  without  Arthur.  I'm  glad  our  party  is 
breaking  up." 

"  Why  ?  " 

"  We  know  too  much  about  one  another  to 
live  together  comfortably." 

"  True.     Shall  I  go  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dale,  with  a  smile  ;  "  you  may 
stay  and  keep  watch  over  the  razors.'' 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

tlbe  Scene  ot  tbe  ©utrage. 

HE  excitement  and  bustle  which   at- 
tended and  followed  on  the  attempted 
murder,  the  suicide,  the  inquest,  the 
illnesses,  and  the  true  and  false  reports 
concerning  each  and  all  of  these  incidents,  had 
hardly  subsided   before  the  Mayor  of  Market 
Denborough,  with  the  perseverance    that  dis- 
tinguished him,  began  once  more  to  give  his 
attention  to  the  royal  visit.     For  reasons  which 
will  be  apparent  to  all  who  study  the  manner 
in   which   one   man   becomes    a   knight   while 
another   remains   unhonored,    the    Mayor   was 
particularly  anxious   that   the  Institute  should 
not  lose  the  klat  which  the  Duke  of  Mercia  had 
promised  to  bestow  on  its  opening,  and  that  its 
opening  should  take  place  during  his  mayoralty. 
The   finger  of   fame  pointed  at  Mr.   Maggs 
the  horse-dealer  as  Mr.  Hedger's  successor,  and 
the  idea  of  the  waters  of  the  fountain  of  honor 
flowing  on  to  the  head  of  Maggs.  instead  of  on 
to  his  own,  spurred  the  Mayor  to  keen  exertion. 
He  had  interviews  with  the  Squire,  he  wrote  to 
the  Lord  Lieutenant,  he   promoted   a   petition 
from  the  burgesses,  and  he  carried  a  resolution 
in   the   Town   Council.     Mr.  Delane  was  pre- 


220  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

vailed  upon  to  use  his  influence  with  the  Lord 
Lieutenant  ;  the  Lord  Lieutenant  could  not,  in 
view  of  Mr.  Delane's  urgent  appeal,  refuse  to 
lay  the  question  before  his  Royal  Highness  ; 
and  his  Royal  Highness  was  graciously  pleased 
to  say  that  he  could  not  deny  himself  the  pleas- 
ure of  obliging  Lord  Cransford,  knowing  not 
that  he  was  in  fact  and  in  truth,  if  it  may  be 
spoken  without  Icse-viajesti,  merely  an  instru- 
ment in  the  clever  fingers  of  a  gentleman  who, 
when  the  Prince  was  writing  his  reply,  was  roll- 
ing pills  in  the  parlor  behind  his  shop  in  the 
town  of  Market  Denborough. 

Now,  Colonel  Smith  had  never  concealed  his 
opinion  that,  however  much  evil  that  unhappy 
man  James  Roberts  had  to  answer  for,  yet  he 
deserved  a  scrap  of  grateful  memory,  inasmuch 
as  he  had  by  his  action  averted  the  calamity 
that  was  threatening  the  town,  and,  further- 
more, robbed  Dale  Bannister  of  the  chance  of 
prostituting  his  genius.  Accordingly,  when  it 
was  announced  in  the  Statidard,  three  or  four 
weeks  after  James  Roberts  had  shot  at  Dale 
Bannister  and  wounded  Nellie  Fane,  that  the 
Duke  had  given  a  conditional  promise  to  pay 
his  deferred  visit  in  June,  the  Colonel  laid  down 
the  paper  and  said  to  the  rest  of  the  breakfast 
party  at  Mount  Pleasant— and  the  Colonel  must 
bear  the  responsibility  for  the  terms  he  thought 
proper  to  employ  : 

"  That  old  fool  Cransford  has  nobbled  the 
whippersnapper  again  !  We're  to  have  him 
after  all !     Good  Lord  !" 

Tora  at  once  appreciated  his  meaning. 


THE  SCENE  OF  THE  OUTRAGE.  221 

"  Papa  means  the  Prince  is  coming,  Nellie  !  " 
cried  she.     "  How  splendid  !  " 

"  Bannister  will  have  a  chance  of  blacking 
his  boots  now,"  pursued  the  Colonel,  trying  to 
impose  a  malignant  sneer  on  his  obstinately- 
kindly  countenance. 

"  You  are  not  to  say  such  things,"  said  Nellie 
emphatically.  "You  know  you  don't  mean 
them." 

"  Not  mean  them  ?"  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 

"  No.  You're  not  horrid,  and  it's  no  use  try- 
ing to  make  yourself  horrid.     Is  it,  Tora  ?  " 

Tora's  thoughts  were  far  away. 

"  In  June,"  she  said  meditatively.  "  I  hope  it 
won't  be  the  first  week,  or  we  shall  have  to 
come  back  early." 

The  Colonel's  face  expressed  concentrated 
scorn. 

"You  would  cut  short  your  honeymoon  in 
order  to  come  back  ?  " 

"Of  course,  dear.  I  wouldn't  miss  it.  Oh, 
and,  Nellie,  I  shall  go  in  next  after  Lady  Crans- 
ford  !  " 

This  was  too  much  for  the  Colonel ;  he  said 
nothing  himself,  but  his  joy  was  great  when  Sir 
Harry  pointed  out  that  Mrs.  Hedger  would  have 
official  precedence  over  the  new  Lady  Fulmer. 
The  Colonel  chuckled,  and  Tora  pretended  that 
she  had  remembered  about  Mrs.  Hedger  all  the 
time. 

"  Johnstone  will  probably  take  you  in,  Tora," 
said  Sir  Harry,  who  had  lately  found  him- 
self able  to  treat  Tora  with  less  fearful 
respect. 


222  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  I  don't  care.  I  shall  talk  to  the  Prince. 
Mow,  Nellie,  you  must  come  down  for  it." 

Nellie  would  not  give  any  promise,  and  Tora 
forbore  to  press  her,  for  she  confessed  to  herself 
and  to  Sir  Harry  that  she  did  not  quite  under- 
stand the  position  of  affairs.  Janet  Delane 
remained  in  strict  seclusion  ;  doctor's  orders 
were  alleged,  but  Tora  was  inclined  to  be 
skeptical,  for  she  had  seen  Janet  out  driving, 
and  reported  that  she  looked  strong  and  well. 
Dale  was  at  Littlehill,  and  he  was  there  alone, 
Philip  having  gone  back  to  London  with  Arthur 
Angell.  He  often  came  over  to  Mount  Pleasant, 
to  see  Nellie,  no  doubt ;  and  when  he  came,  he 
was  most  attentive  and  kind  to  her.  Yet  he 
resolutely  refused  to  stay  in  the  house,  always 
returning  in  an  hour  or  two  to  his  solitary  life 
at  Littlehill.  He  seemed  never  to  see  Janet, 
and  to  know  not  much  more  about  her  than 
the  rest  of  the  world  did.  He  never  referred  to 
her  unquestioned,  and  when  bespoke  of  Nellie's 
share  in  the  scene  in  the  garden,  he  appeared 
pointedly  to  avoid  discussing  Janet's.  Tora 
concluded  that  there  was  some  break  in  his 
relations  with  Janet,  and,  led  on  by  her  sym- 
pathies, had  small  difTiculty  in  persuading  her- 
self that  he  was  by  degrees  being  induced  by 
affection  and  gratitude  to  feel  toward  Nellie  as 
everybody  expected  and  wished  him  to  feel. 
Only,  if  so,  it  was  hard  to  see  why  Nellie's 
pleasure  in  his  visits  seemed  mingled  with  a 
nervousness  which  the  increased  brightness  of 
her  prospects  did  not  allay.  Evidently  she  also 
was  puzzled  by  Janet's  conduct ;   and  it  was 


THE  SCENE  OF  THE  OUTRAGE.  223 

equally  clear  that  she  did  not  yet  feel  confident 
that  Dale  had  renounced  his  fancy  for  Janet  and 
given  his  heart  to  her. 

In  after-days  Dale  was  wont  to  declare  that 
the  fortnight  he  passed  alone  at  Littlehill  was 
the  most  miserable  in  his  life,  and  people  given 
to  improving  the  occasion  would  then  tell  him 
that  he  had  no  experience  of  what  real  misery 
was.  Yet  he  was  very  miserable.  He  was  sore 
~to  the  heart  at  Janet's  treatment  of  him ;  she 
would  neither  see  him,  nor,  till  he  absolutely 
insisted,  write  to  him,  and  then  she  sent  three 
words :  "  It's  no  use."  In  face  of  this  incredi- 
ble delusion  of  hers  he  felt  himself  helpless  ; 
and  the  Squire,  ivith  all  the  good  will  in  the 
world  to  him,  could  only  shrug  his  shoulders 
and  say  that  Jan  was  a  strange  girl ;  while 
Mrs.  Delane,  knowing  nothing  of  the  cause  of 
her  daughter's  refusal  to  see  Dale,  had  once 
again  begun  to  revive  her  old  hopes,  and  allowed 
herself  to  hint  at  them  to  her  favorite  Gerard 
Ripley.  Of  course  this  latter  fact  was  not 
known  to  Dale,  but  he  was  aware  that  Captain 
Ripley  had  called  two  or  three  times  at  the 
Grange,  and  had  seen  Janet  once.  The  "doc- 
tor's orders  "  applied,  it  seemed,  to  him  alone  ; 
and  his  bitterness  of  heart  increased,  mingling 
with  growing  impatience  and  resentment. 
Nellie  could  never  have  acted  like  this :  she 
was  too  kind  and  gentle ;  love  was  real  in  her,  a 
mastering  power,  and  not  itself  the  plaything  of 
fantastic  scruples — unless  a  worse  thing  were 
true,  unless  the  scruples  themselves  were  the 
screen  of  some  unlooked-for  and  sudden  infi- 


224  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

delity  of  heart.  The  thought  was  treason,  but 
he  could  not  stifle  it.  Yet,  even  while  it  pos- 
sessed him,  while  he  told  himself  that  he  had 
now  full  right  to  transfer  his  allegiance,  that  no 
one  could  blame  him,  that  every  motive  urged 
him,  all  the  while  in  his  inmost  mind  he  never 
lost  the  knowledge  that  it  was  Janet  he  wanted  ; 
and  when  he  came  to  see  Nellie,  he  was  unable, 
even  if  he  had  been  willing — and  he  told  him- 
self he  was — to  say  anything  but  words  of 
friendship  and  thanks,  unable  to  frame  a  sen- 
tence distantly  approaching  the  phrases  of  love 
he  knew  she  longed  to  hear. 

Matters  were  in  this  very  unsatisfactory  con- 
dition when  Philip  Hume  returned  to  Littlehill, 
and  straightway  became  the  unwilling  recipient 
of  Dale's  troubled  confidences.  A  fortnight's 
solitude  had  been  too  much  for  Dale,  and  he 
poured  out  his  perplexities,  saying,  with  an 
apologetic  laugh  : 

"I'm  bound  to  tell  someone.  I  believe,  if 
you  hadn't  come,  I  should  have  made  a  clean 
breast  of  it  to  the  Mayor." 

"  You  might  do  worse.  The  Mayor  is  a  man 
of  sagacity.  This  young  woman  seems  very 
unreasonable." 

"  What  young  woman  }  " 

"  Why,  Miss  Delane." 

"  Well,  Phil,  you  must  allow  for  the  delicacy 
of  her " 

"  You  called  it  infernal  nonsense  yourself  just 
now." 

"  I  wish,  Phil,  you'd  call  at  the  Grange  and 
see  her,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  about  her." 


THE  SCENE  OF  THE  OUTRAGE.  22$ 

"  I  can't  do  any  good,  but  I'll  go,  if  you 
like." 

Accordingly  he  went,  and  did,  as  he  ex- 
pected, no  good  at  all.  Janet  had  resumed  her 
ordinary  manner,  with  an  additional  touch  or 
two  of  vivacity  and  loquaciousness,  which  be- 
trayed the  uneasiness  they  were  meant  to  hide. 
The  only  subjects  she  discussed  were  the  last 
new  novel  and  Tora  Smith's  wedding,  and 
Philip  took  his  leave,  entirely  unenlightened. 
The  Squire  offered  to  walk  part  of  the  way  with 
him  and  they  set  out  together. 

The  Squire  stopped  at  the  scene  of  the  dis- 
aster. Pointing  with  his  toe  to  a  spot  by  the 
side  of  the  drive  : 

"  That's  where  that  mad  wretch  stood,  hold- 
ing my  poor  girl,"  he  said. 
Philip  nodded. 

"  And  where  was  Dale  ?  "  he  asked,  for  it  was 
his  first  visit  to  the  spot. 

The  Squire  was  delighted  to  be  cicerone. 
"  He  was  standing  with  his  back  to  that  tree 
yonder,  about   fifteen   yards   off,  looking   due 
north,  toward  the  house,  thinking  of  a  poem  or 
some  nonsense,  I  suppose." 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder." 

"  Well,  then,"  pursued  the  Squire,  "you  see 
he  was  almost  in  a  straight  line  with  Roberts — 
Roberts'  barrel  must  have  pointed  straight 
toward  Denborough  church  spire.  After  the 
first  shot  Bannister  sprang  forward — the  gravel 
was  soft,  and  we  saw  every  footprint — to  where 

Miss  Fane  fell,  and " 

"  Where  did  she  fall  ?  " 


226  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

The  Squire's  toe  indicated  a  spot  about  three 
yards  from  the  tree. 

"  She  was  running-  up  from  behind  Bannister, 
you  know,  and  had  just  got  across  the  Hne  of 
fire  when  the  bullet  caught  her.  She  fell  for- 
ward on  her  face, — she  was  bound  to,  Spink 
said,  from  the  way  she  was  hit, — and  Bannister 
just  got  his  arm  under  her,  to  break  her  fall." 

"  She  was  running  toward  him,  I  suppose,  to 
warn  him  .^  " 

"  To  get  between  him  and  Roberts,  like  the 
noble  girl  she  is,  no  doubt ;  but  she  seemed  to 
have  turned  round  on  hearing  the  shot,  be- 
cause, to  judge  from  the  way  she  was  lying, 
she  was,  at  the  moment  she  fell,  heading  almost 
south." 
"  What,  toward  the  house  ?  " 
"Yes,  in  a  slanting  line,  from  the  tree  toward 
the  house." 

"  That's  away  from  Bannister  ?  " 
"  Yes,  and  from   Roberts  too.     You  see,  she 
must  have  turned.     It  was  a  fine  thing.     Well, 
I  must  get  back  ;  I'm  busy  with  all  the  prepa- 
rations  for  this  affair.     Good-day,  Mr.  Hume. 
Very  kind  of  you  to  come  and  see  us." 
"  I'm  so  glad  to  find  Miss  Delane  better." 
"  Yes,  she's   better,  thanks,  but   not   herself 
yet,  by  any  means.     Good-day." 

Philip  went  home,  lit  a  pipe,  and  drew  a  neat 
little  plan  of  the  scene  which  had  just  been  so 
carefully  described  to  him.  By  the  time  the 
drawing  was  made  the  pipe  was  finished,  and 
he  was  obliged  to  light  another,  which  he  con- 
sumed  while  he  sat  gazing  at  his  handiwork. 


THE  SCENE  OF  THE  OUTRAGE.  22" 

He  was  still  pondering  over  it  when  Dale  camfe 
in,  and  flung  himself  into  an  armchair  with  a 
restless  sigh. 

"  What's  up  now  ?  "  asked  Philip. 

"  Only  that  I'm  the  most  miserable  dog  alive. 
I  tell  you  what,  Phil,  I'm  going  to  settle  this 
affair  one  way  or  the  other.  I  won't  be  played 
with  any  more.  I  shall  go  up  to  the  Grange 
to-morrow." 

"  You  can't — it's  Fulmer's  wedding." 

"  Hang  his  wedding  !  Well,  then,  next  day — 
and  get  a  definite  answer  from  Janet.  It's  too 
bad  of  her.  Did  you  have  any  talk  with  her 
to-day .'  " 

"  Only  general  conversation.  She  gave  me 
no  chance." 

"I  don't  understand  her,  but  I'll  have  it 
settled.  I've  been  at  Mount  Pleasant,  and — by 
God,  Phil,  I  can't  stand  the  sort  of  anxious, 
beseeching  way  Nellie  looks.  I  know  it  sounds 
absurd  to  hear  a  man  talk  like  that,  but  it's  a 
fact." 

"  Then  why  do  you  go  ?  " 

"  Well,  considering  what  she's  done,  I  don't 
see  how  I  can  very  well  stay  away." 

"Oh!  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Philip, 
touching  up  his  plan ;  "  but  if  I  were  you. 
Dale,  I  should  wait  a  bit  before  I  bothered 
Miss  Delane  again.     Give  her  time,  man." 

"  No,  I  won't.     She's  not  treating  me  fairly." 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  it  ?  You  want 
to  marry  her,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  Then  give  her  time.     Give  her  a  week  at  all 


228  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

events.  You  can  sound  her  at  the  wedding 
to-morrow,  but  don't  present  your  ultimatum." 

And  Dale  agreed,  on  mucli  persuasion,  to 
give  her  a  week. 

"  That's  more  sensible.  And,  Dale,  may  I 
ask  Arthur  Angell  down  for  a  day  or  two?  " 

"Of  course,  but  I  don't  know  whether  he'U 
come." 

"Oh,  he'll  come,  fast  enough." 

"  What  do  you  want  him  for  ?  " 

"  To  consult  him  about  a  little  work  of  mine," 
answered  Philip,  regarding  his  sketch  critically. 

"  Going  to  publish  something  .'*  " 

"  I  don't  know.     That  depends." 

"  On  the  publishers.''  (^a  va  sans  dire.  But 
how  can  Arthur  help  you  ?  " 

"  He  was  there." 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  Now,  Dale,  I  can  understand  your  impa- 
tience— but  you  must  wait.  If  I  publish  it,  you 
shall  see  it." 

"  Is  it  my  sort  }     Shall  I  like  it  }  " 

"  I  think  your  feelings  would  be  mixed,"  said 
Philip,  delicately  filling  in  Nellie  Fane's  figure 
on  the  ground. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Bgalnst  1ber  ^Better  judgment. 

T  is  never  well  to  vie  with  experts  in 
their  own  subjects  ;  humiliation  surely 
attends  the  audacious  attempt,  and  a 
humiliation  which  receives  and  de- 
serves no  softening  sympathy.  Moreover,  even 
if  the  technical  difficulties  could  be  overcome, 
the  description  of  a  wedding  must  be  either 
florid  or  cynical,  assuming  impossible  happiness, 
or  insinuating  improbable  catastrophe.  Where- 
fore this  narrative,  which  abhors  either  of  these 
extremes,  takes  leave  to  resume  its  course  at 
the  moment  when  Sir  Harry  and  Lady  Fulmer 
have  been  driven  away  for  their  honeymoon, 
and  the  guests  at  Mount  Pleasant  are  engaged 
in  looking  at  one  another's  presents,  one 
another's  clothes,  and  their  own  watches, 
while  a  group  of  men  have  sought  retirement 
and  cigars  in  the  garden.  The  Lord  Lieutenant 
was  paying  compliments  of  alarming  elabora- 
tion and  stateliness  to  Nellie  Fane;  and  Janet 
Delane,  having  discharged  her  duty  in  that  line 
with  generous  graciousness,  was  looking  with 
despair  at  Captain  Ripley's  puzzled  face  and  be- 
tugged  mustache,  and  wondering  why  men 
could  not  or  would  not  understand  plain  Eng- 
229 


230  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

lish,  and  why — why  above  all — they  had  no 
more  sense  of  dignity  or  of  timeliness  than  to 
renew  useless  entreaties  in  a  roomful  of  people, 
and — to  descend  to  the  particular  case — with 
Dale  Bannister  only  a  few  yards  away,  paying 
obvious  inattention  to  a  rhapsodic  bridesmaid. 

•'Wasn't  it  a  pretty  wedding?"  asked  the 
bridesmaid.  "You  know  I'm  a  stranger  to 
Denborough,  and  I  never  knew  you  had  so 
many  beautiful  girls.  It  might  have  been  St. 
Peter's." 

"  Might  it  ? "  said  Dale,  with  an  absent 
smile,  entirely  unappreciative  of  the  compli- 
ment. He  did  not  know  what  or  where  St. 
Peter's  was. 

"  Oh,  it  was  lovely.  Well,  dear  Tora  herself 
is  very  pretty.  And  then.  Miss  Delane  !  I  do 
love  that  severe,  statuesque  style,  don't  you  ? 
How  pale  she  is,  though  !  she  doesn't  look  very 
happy,  does  she  ?  Oh,  and  Miss  Fane  !  Isn't 
she  lovely  ?  She  sings,  doesn't  she?  I  think 
people  of  that  kind  are  so  nice.  Oh,  and  I've 
heard  all  about  her.  How  nice  it  was  of  her  to 
be  so  brave,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Naturally,  I  think  so." 

"  Oh,  of  course,  I  forgot.  It's  so  nice  wlien 
people  are  good  and  pretty  too,  isn't  it  ?  After 
all,  good  looks  do  go  for  something,  don't 
they?  "  and  she  fixed  a  pair  of  large  and  un- 
naturally innocent  eyes  on  Dale. 

"  You  must  tell  me  about  that,"  he  said  with 
labored  politeness.     "  How  do  you  find  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Mr.  Bannister  !  But,  seri- 
ously, did  you  ever  see  anything  so  lovely  as 


AGAINST  HER  BETTER  JUDGMENT.        23I 

the  way  Sir  Harry  looked  at  Tora  when  they 
were " 

Dale  had  gone— without  a  word  of  excuse. 
He  had  seen  Janet  rise  abruptly,  with  an  im- 
patient wave  of  her  hand,  and  Captain  Ripley 
turn  on  his  heel  and  disappear  into  the  eddying 
throng  that  was  circling  round  the  wedding 
presents.  He  darted  across  to  Janet,  and  held 
out  his  hand. 

"  I  must  see  you  here,"  he  said,  "  since  you 
will  not  see  me  at  the  Grange." 

The  bridesmaid  marked  their  greeting.  She 
rose  with  offended  dignity  and  returned  to  her 
mother.  She  says  to  this  day  that  she  has  only 
known  one  poet,  and  he  was  not  at  all  nice,  and 
concludes,  after  the  manner  of  a  certain  part  of 
humanity,  that  none  of  the  rest  are  nice  either. 

Janet  looked  at  Dale  doubtfully,  then  she  led 
the  way  to  a  little  room  which  was  free  from 
the  crowd.  Then  she  sat  down.  "  I'm  very 
tired,"  she  said,  "and  I  want  to  stay  here  and 
rest.     Will  you  let  me  ?  " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  Jan.  How  can  I, 
when  I  never  have  a  chance  of  saying  what  I 
want  to  say  to  you  ?     You  talk  to  Ripley " 

"I  don't  comfort  Gerard  Ripley  much." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Dale  heartlessly. 

"  I'm  not  much  troubled  about  him.  I'm 
only  a  habit  to  him," 

"  I  don't  care  twopence  about  him.  Jan,  when 
is  this  sort  of  thing  to  end  ?  Don't  you  like 
seeing  me  }  " 

Janet  had  made  up  her  mind  to  treat  Dale  at 
first  with   simple   friendliness;    if  this    recipe 


232  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

failed,  it  was  to  be  followed  by  distant  civility. 
She  answered  collectedly  enough,  in  spite  of  a 
quiver  in  her  voice  : 

"  I  thought  I  had  better  not  see  you  just 
now." 

"  Why,  in  Heaven's  name  ?  " 

"  I  can't  go  through  it  all  again.  Indeed  I 
can't.  Dale." 

"  Do  you  seriously  expect  me  to  be  content 
with  what  you  said  then — to  go  away  and  never 
come  near  you  again  ?  " 

Dale  spoke  veiiemently.  It  was  obvious  that 
the  distant  civility  would  be  called  into  play. 
Perhaps  silence  was  Janet's  idea  of  it,  for  she 
said  nothing. 

"  Because  that's  what  it  comes  to,"  pursued 
Dale.  "  Do  you  imagine,  Jan,  I  could  see  you 
now — after  it  all — except  as  your  lover  ?  What 
do  you  want  me  to  do  }  " 

"  Miss  Fane "  began  Janet  in  a  very  small 

voice. 

"  I'll  never  see  Nellie  Fane  again  if  she  robs 
me  of  you,"  Dale  declared  with  great  energy, 
and  probably  perfect,  though  unintentional, 
untruth. 

Janet  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes.  Then  she 
dropped  hers,  and  said,  in  tones  quite  unlike 
those  of  distant  civility  : 

"  I  wonder  how  you  care  for  such  a  mean- 
spirited  creature  as  I  am.  If  I  told  you  I  loved 
you  still — how  could  you  liclieve  me .''  I  told 
you  before,  and  then  I " 

"  Behaved  like  a  sensible  girl." 

"  Oh,  no,  no.     It  was  a  lie  when  I  said " 


A  GA INST  HER  BE TTER  JUDGMENT.        233 

"  Tell  me  another,  then,"  said  Dale.  "  I  like 
them." 

Janet's  resistance,  like  Bob  Acres'  courage, 
was  oozing  out  of  her  finger  tips. 

"I  know  what  it  will  be,"  she  faltered  plain- 
tively. "  You'll  always  be  thinking  about  her, 
and  so  shall  I — and  it  will  be  horrible.  No,  I 
won't  do  it.  I  have  some  resolution.  Dale;  it 
wasn't  mere  nonsense.     I  did  mean  it." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Dale  persuasively;  "you 
never  did,  Jan.  You  had  no  idea  how  bored 
you  would  be  without  me.     Now,  had  you  }  " 

"  I  can  never  respect  myself  again." 

"It's  quite  unnecessary,  dear;  I'll  do  all 
that." 

"  Are  you  really  quite — quite  sure,  Dale,  that 
you  will  never " 

"  Oh,  hang  it  all !  "  said  Dale,  and  he  kissed 
her. 

"  Dale  !  the  door's  open." 

Dale  shut  it,  and  the  rest  of  the  conversation 
became  inaudible,  and  remains  unknown. 

The  guests  had  gone.  Mrs.  Hodge  and 
Nellie,  who  were  to  keep  the  Colonel  company 
for  a  little  while,  had  walked  down  to  Den- 
borough  to  tell  Mrs.  Roberts  all  about  the  event 
of  the  day  ;  and  the  Colonel  was  bustling  about, 
getting  the  presents  packed  up,  and  counting, 
with  some  surprise,  the  empty  champagne 
bottles.  He  was  thus  engaged  when  the  door 
of  the  little  room  opened,  to  let  Janet  and  Dale 
out. 

"  Dear  me !  I  thought  you'd  gone.  Nellie 
asked  me,  and  I  told  her  so." 


234  A  CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  I  am  just  going,  Colonel  Smith,"  said  Janet. 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Dale. 

The  Colonel  watched  them  go  together. 

"  There's  another  man  going  to  lose  his 
daughter,"  he  said.  "  By  Jove,  I  thought  it  was 
to  be  Nellie  Fane  !  " 

When  Janet  left  Dale  at  the  Grange  gates, 
she  went  to  her  father's  study. 

"  Lord,  child,"  said  the  Squire, "  are  you  only 
just  back  }  " 

"  I  stayed  to  see  them  off." 

"  Your  mother  did  that,  and  she's  been  back 
two  hours.     She  couldn't  find  you." 

"  Papa,"  said  Janet,  sitting  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  "  I'm  very  much  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  now  .''  Ill  treat- 
ing that  poor  young  man  again  ?" 

"  No." 

"  He's  not  a  bad  fellow,  you  know,  after  all — 
honest  and  good — not  brilliant,  of  course." 

"  Not  brilliant,  papa  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  he's  a  fool  ;  I  believe  he's  an 
efficient  officer " 

"  Officer  .''     Why,  you're  talking  of  Gerard  !" 

"  Of  course  I  am." 

"  How  can  you  imagine  I  was  thinking  of 
Gerard  ?     I  meant  Mr.  Bannister." 

"  Bannister  ?  Why,  you  told  me  only  the 
other  day " 

"  Yes.     That's  why." 

"  Why  what,  child  ?  " 

"  Why  I'm  ashamed." 

The  Squire  raised  himself  and  looked  severely 
at  his  daughter. 


AGAINST  HER  BETTER  JUDGMENT.        235 

"  A  precious  fuss  you've  made  about  noth- 
ing." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  papa.  I  don't  want  to,  but 
he  insists." 

"  He  seems  to  know  how  to  manage  you, 
which  is  more  than  I  do.  There,  go  and  tell 
your  mother.     And,  Jan  !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  If  ever  you  say  you  won't  have  him 
again " 

"  Yes,  papa." 

"  By  Jove,  you  shan't !  "  said  the  Squire  with 
emphasis,  and  he  added,  as  his  daughter  fled 
after  a  hasty  kiss,  "  Perhaps  that  '11  keep  her 
quiet." 

Dale  found  nobody  but  Philip  Hume  to  con- 
gratulate him,  and  Philip  was,  as  usual  now, 
busy  over  his  little  plan. 

"  Oh,  she's  come  round,  has  she  }  "  he  asked, 
with  no  sign  of  surprise. 

Dale  said  she  had,  and  Philip  meditatively 
took  up  his  little  plan. 

"Have  you  told  Nellie.'*  "  he  asked. 

"No.     I  haven't  seen  her." 

"  She  never  knew  you  had  asked  Miss  Delane 
before?  " 

"  No.  Nobody  knew  but  her  people  and  you. 
I  think  she  had  an  idea  I  liked  Jan." 

"  Yes,  but  not  more?  " 

"  No.     I  don't  think  so." 

Philip  whistled  gently,  and  twisted  the  little 
plan  in  his  fingers.  Dale,  in  his  good  humor, 
said  : 

"  Why  the  deuce,  Phil,  do  you  go  on  6dgeting 


236  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

with  that  thing?  You're  like  an  old  hen  over 
an  tgg." 

"Yes;  I  don't  know  that  it  is  any  good.  I 
think  I'll  destroy  it." 

And  he  tore  it  slowly  in  two,  and  threw  it  in 
the  fire. 

"  The  vindictive  theory  of  punishment,"  he 
remarked,  with  apparent  irrelevance,  "  does  not 
commend  itself  to  me.  If  no  evil  consequences 
exist  to  be  averted,  why  should  we  punish  }  " 
and  he  pushed  the  plan  farther  into  the  blaze 
with  the  poker. 

"  If  you  want  to  argue  that  sort  of  thing,  old 
fellow,  you  must  ring  for  Wilson.  I'm  going  to 
have  a  try  at  some  verses." 

"  Going  to  write  your  own  epitaph,  like 
Swift  ?  " 

Dale  shook  his  head  and  smiled,  with  the 
impenetrable,  hopeless  happiness  of  successful 
love. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 
B  IDillain  *Qlnma0F;eD. 

FEW  days  after  Dale's  love  affairs 
had  begun  to  flow  in  a  more  peaceful 
channel  the  Mayor  of  Market  Den- 
^  borough  had  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Philip  Hume,  and  Philip  emerged  from  the  con- 
versation with  a  smile  of  mingled  amusement 
and  perplexity  on  his  face.  The  Mayor  had 
been  to  the  Grange  ;  the  Squire  fully  approved 
of  the  scheme ;  a  hundred  pounds  was  sub- 
scribed already,  and  another  twenty  or  thirty 
expected.  Philip  was  requested  to  act  as  an 
intermediary,  and  find  out  from  Miss  Fane 
what  form  she  would  prefer  that  the  testi- 
monial which  Denborough  intended  to  offer 
to  her,  in  recognition  of  her  signal  gallantry, 
should  take. 

"  I  wanted  to  wait  and  make  it  a  wedding 
present,"  said  the  Mayor,  with  a  wink,  "  but 
the  Squire  thinks  we  had  better  not  wait  for 
that." 

"  Ah,  does  he  ?  "  said  Philip. 

"  Though  what   Mr.  Bannister's    waitin'  for 
I  can't  see;  and  I  said   as  much  to  Miss  Janet 
when  1  met  her  in  the  garden." 
'    237 


238  A   CHANGE  OF  A /R. 

"What  did  she  say?  "asked  Philip  in  some 
curiosity. 

*'  Well,  sir,  now  you  astc  me,  I  don't  think  she 
said  anything.  She  seemed  a  bit  put-out  hke 
about  something." 

"  It  couldn't  have  been  anything  you 
said  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  sir.  I  only  said  as  I  shouldn't  be 
slow  to  move  if  a  young  lady  like  Miss  Fane 
was  waitin'  for  me — and  her  havin'  saved  my 
life,  too." 

"  Good  Lord  !  " 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  sir?  " 

"  Nothing,  Mr.  Mayor,  nothing." 

"  You'll  see  Miss  Fane  about  it  ?  She  hasn't 
left  the  Colonel's." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  so.     Yes,  I'll  see  her." 

Dale  had  gone  to  London,  alleging  that  he 
had  shopping  to  do,  and  hardly  denying  that 
his  business  would  lie  chiefly  at  the  jeweler's. 
Philip  was  glad  that  he  was  away,  for  he  thus 
could  start  on  his  mission  unquestioned.  He 
found  Nellie  at  home,  and  at  once  plunged  into 
the  matter.  Directly  Nellie  understood  what 
was  proposed,  she  jumped  up,  crying  : 

"  Oh,  no,  they  mustn't.  You  must  stop 
them." 

"  Why,  it's  a  very  natural  tribute " 

"  I  won't  have  it !  I  can't  have  it !  You 
must  tell  them,  Mr.  Hume." 

"  It'll  look  ratlier  ungracious,  won't  it?  Why 
shouldn't  you  take  their  present  ?  "  he  asked, 
looking  at  her  in  a  half-amused  way. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !    You  don't  understand.     Oh, 


A   VILLAIN  UNMASKED.  239 

what  a  wretched  girl  I  am  !  "  and  Nellie,  fling- 
ing herself  in  a  chair,  began  to  cry. 

He  sat  and  watched  her  with  a  grim  smile, 
which  he  made  an  effort  to  maintain.  But  the 
sobs  were  rather  piteous,  and  the  smile  gradu- 
ally became  very  mildly  ferocious,  and  presently 
vanished  altogether.  Presently,  also,  Nellie 
stopped  crying,  sat  up,  and  stared  in  front  of 
her  with  a  dazed  look  and  parted  lips. 

"  Well }  "  said  Philip. 

"  I  won't  receive  the  testimonial." 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  ?  "  he  asked  in  a 
tone  of  disappointment. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  plucking  nervously  at 
her  handkerchief,  "  that's  all." 

"  No  reason  to  give  ?  " 

"  Tell  them  that  there's  nothing  to  give  me  a 
testimonial  for." 

"  Shall  I  ?  "  he  asked. 

Nellie  glanced  at  him  with  a  start,  but  in  an 
instant  she  recovered  herself. 

"  I  mean  that  I  would  much  rather  no  more 
fuss  was  made  about  what  I  did." 

"  As  you  please,"  he  said  coldly.  "  I  will  tell 
the  Mayor,  and  get  him  to  stop  the  thing." 

"  Is  Dale  at  home  ?  "  she  asked,  as  Philip 
rose. 

"  He's  gone  to  town.  Do  you  want  to  see 
him  about  anything  ?  " 

"  No — nothing  in  particular — only — I  haven't 
seen  him  for  three  or  four  days." 

"  Are  you  staying  here  long  ?  " 

"  I  am  staying  till  Tora  comes  home,  and 
then  I  go  to  her." 


240  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"  Well,  good-by.  I'll  tell  the  Mayor." 
"  Thank  you  so  much.  Good-by." 
She  was  quite  calm  again  by  now  ;  her  sudden 
fit  of  agitation  was  over,  and  apparently  she  felt 
nothing  more  than  a  distaste  for  the  parade  of 
a  public  presentation.  So  easy  and  natural  had 
her  bearing  become  that  Philip  Hume,  as  he 
walked  away,  wondered  if  he  had  been  on  a 
wrong  scent  after  all.     If  so,  he  had  behaved  in 

a  very  brutal 

He  broke  off  his  thoughts  abruptly,  to  recog- 
nize and  bow  to  Janet  Delane,  who  whirled  by 
in  her  victoria,  on  the  way  to  Mount  Pleasant. 
She  seemed  to  be  going  to  pay  a  visit  to  Nellie 
Fane.  Philip,  who  liked  to  hear  how  things 
happen,  regretted  that  he  had  cut  his  own  visit 
short  and  missed  Janet's  entry. 

Janet  whirled  on.  Her  balance  of  mind, 
delicately  poised  between  her  love  and  her 
pride,  had  suffered  a  new  and  severe  shock 
from  the  Mayor's  jocose  remarks.  She  could 
not  rest.  She  felt  that  she  must  see  for  herself 
— must  see  Nellie  and  find  out  why  everybody 
thought  what  they  did— yes,  and  what  Nellie 
thought.  She  was  full  of  things  which  she  had 
to  say  to  Nellie  ;  she  was  prepared,  if  need  be, 
again  to  sacrifice  herself  for  Nellie,  but  the  truth 
about  it  all  at  least  she  was  determined  to  hear  ; 
on  what  it  was.  Dale's  uncertain  happiness  again 
hung  suspended.  With  her  usual  frankness  and 
candor,  she  straightway  began  to  tell  Nellie  all 
her  story.  Nellie  listened  in  almost  stony  still- 
ness. 

"  It's  so  hard  to  speak  of,"  said  Janet,  "but  yet 


A    VILLAIN  UiYMASKED.  24 1 

I  think  we  must.  It  is  wretched  to  let  things  go 
on  Hke  this.  At  least  I  am  wretched,  and  I 
fear  he  is,  and " 

"I'm  sure  I  am,"  said  Nellie,  with  a  forlorn 
laugh. 

Janet  came  and  knelt  by  her  and  took  her 
hands. 

"  You  too  ?  you  whom  we  all  admire  so  ? 
Oh,  what  a  world  it  is !  Why  did  I  ever  love 
him  ?  " 

"  Ah,  you  do  love  him  .''  " 

"  Yes.  And  why  did  I  ever  make  him  love 
me?     Ah,  Nellie,  if  only " 

Nellie  had  sprung  up. 

"  How  do  you  know  he  loves  you  ?  "  she  cried. 

"  How  do  I  know,  dear?     Why,  he  told  me." 

"  When  ?  when  ?  " 

"  Why,  before — the  day  before  it  all  happened. 
But  since  then  I  have  felt,  and  I  told  him,  that 
he  belonged  to  you — I  mean,  dear,  that  it  must 
be  you  now  whom  he  must  really  love,  and 
that  I " 

Nellie  was  not  listening. 

"  He  told  you  before  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Yes,  the  day  before.     But  afterward " 

"  You  were  actually  engaged  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  were." 

"  I  never  knew  it.  I  didn't  know  that.  Oh, 
how  wicked  I  have  been  !  " 

"  Wicked  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked 
Janet,  puzzled  at  her  companion's  strange  be- 
havior. 

NeUie  stood  silent,  and  Janet  went  on. 


242  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

"But  I  feel,  I  can't  help  feeling,  that  it  is  to 
you  he  owes  his  life — to  you " 

"  Be  quiet !  "  cried  Nellie.  "  Are  you  engaged 
now  ?  " 

"  I — I  don't  know." 

"  Does  he  still  love  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  Wliy  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  Why  did  you 
keep  nie  in  the  dark.^  Why  did  you  tempt 
me  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  didn't  know  he  had  told    you.      I   only 

thought  he  had  a  fancy Oh,  and  I  loved 

him  too  !     I  did  indeed  !  " 

"  I  know,  dear,"  said  Janet ;  "  and  so,  when 
you  had  been  so  brave,  and  I  so  cowardly " 

"  Stop  !"  cried  Nellie  again,  and  as  she  spoke 
the  door  opened  and  Dale  Bannister  came  in. 
He  was  fresh  back  from  London,  and  had  ridden 
over  to  see  Nellie. 

He  stood  and  looked  in  surprise  from  one  to 
the  other.  There  was  evidently  something 
more  than  an  afternoon  call  going  on. 

Nellie  greeted  his  coming  almost  gladly. 

"  Ah,  you  are  here  ?  Then  I  can  tell  you. 
I  can't  bear  it  any  longer.  O  Dale,  I  didn't 
know  you  had  told  her.  Indeed  I  didn't,  or  I 
would  never  have  done  it  ;  "  and,  carried  away 
by  her  emotion,  she  fell  on  her  knees  before 
him. 

"  Why,  Nellie,  what  in  the  world's  the 
matter  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  wicked,"  she  went  on  quickly, 
clinging  to  his  hand.     "  I  have  deceived  you. 


A   VILLA IX  UNMASKED.  243 

I  have  told  you  lies.  Oh,  how  wicked  I  have 
been  !  " 

Dale  looked  inquiringly  at  Janet,  but  she 
shook  her  head  in  bewilderment. 

"Well,  Nellie,  let's  sit  down  quietly  and  hear 
the  villainy.     What  is  it  ?  " 

She  refused  to  let  him  raise  her,  and  went  on, 
as  she  was,  on  her  knees. 

"I  didn't  mean  it  at  first.  I  didn't  think  of 
it,  but  when  I  found  you  all  thought  it,  and — 
and  you  were  pleased.  Dale,  I  couldn't  help  it." 

Dale  saw  the  only  chance  of  arriving  at  the 
truth  was  not  to  interrupt.  He  signed  to  Janet 
to  keep  silence. 

"  I  came  up  meaning  to  warn  you.  I  was 
afraid  for  you.  I  saw  you  standing  by  the  tree, 
and  I  was  running  toward  you,  and  all  of  a 
sudden  I  saw  him,  and  the  pistol,  and " 

She  paused  and  drooped  her  head.  Dale 
pressed  her  hand  and  said  : 

"  Well,  Nellie  }  " 

"  I  was  afraid,"  she  said,  "  and  I  turned  and 
began  to  run  away,  and  as  I  was  running,  it  hit 
me."  And,  her  confession  ended,  she  sank  into 
a  little  woebegone  heap  on  the  floor  at  his  feet. 

Dale  understood  now.  She  had  been  tempted 
by  the  hope  of  winning  his  love  through  his 
gratitude,  and  had  not  refused  the  false  glory 
they  all  thrust  upon  her.  Now  she  had  heard 
her  hopes  were  vain,  that  they  had  been  vain 
even  before  that  night,  and  in  the  misery  of  sin, 
and  useless  sin,  she  lay  crying  at  his  feet,  not 
daring  to  look  up  at  him. 

He  stood  there  awkwardly,  as  a  man  stands 


244  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

when  he  feels  more  moved  than  he  allows  him- 
self to  show. 

"Poor  child  !"  he  said,  with  a  break  in  his 
voice.     "  Poor  child  !  " 

Janet  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  What  does  she  say?  That  she  didn't  save 
you  }  "  she  whispered  eagerly.  "  That  she  was 
running  away  ?  " 

Dale  nodded,  and  Janet  fell  down  beside 
Nellie,  embracing  her,  and  saying,  half  laugh- 
ing, half  crying  :  "  O  Nellie,  how  sweet,  how 
sweet  of  you  to  have  been  a  coward  too  !  " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
B  Dision. 

HHE  lawn  at  Diikham  Grange  was  a 
gay  scene.  The  Institute  was  opened, 
the  luncheon  consumed,  the  Royal 
Duke  gone,  full  to  the  last  of  gracious- 
ness,  though  the  poor  fellow  was  hungry  for 
solitude  and  cigars';  and  now  the  society  of  the 
county  was  unbending  in  friendly  condescension 
to  the  society  of  the  town,  and  talking  the 
whole  thing  over  under  the  trees  and  beside 
the  bright  flower-beds.  Lord  Cransford, 
between  Janet  and  Dale,  mingled  praises  of 
the  ode  witli  congratulations  on  the  engage- 
ment ;  no  one  would  have  guessed  that  he 
shared  a  son's  disappointment.  The  Mayor 
indifferently  dissembled  his  exultation  over  the 
whisper  of  a  knighthood  which  a  hint  from 
his  Royal  Highness  had  set  running  through 
the  company.  Mrs.  Johnstone  sat  placidly  in 
an  armchair,  the  ruby  velvet  spread  in  careful 
folds,  while  Sir  Harry  Fulmer  paid  her  com- 
pliments, and  wondered  where  his  wife  was, 
and  how  soon  they  might  go ;  and  his  wife 
walked  with  the  Squire,  declaring  in  her 
impetuous  way  that  Nellie  Fane's  deceit  was 
the  most  beautiful  and  touching  thing  she  had 

245 


245  A   CHAXGE  OF  AIR. 

ever  heard  of,  whereat  the  Squire  tugged  his 
whisker,  and  said  that  nobody  was  disposed 
to  be  hard  on  her.  Mrs.  Roberts  had  made 
her  first  public  appearance,  diUgently  attended 
by  Dr.  Spink,  who  said,  but  was  disbelieved  in 
saying,  that  she  still  needed  constant  care. 
Nellie  Fane  herself  had  been  persuaded  to 
come,  on  a  promise  that  the  Mayor  should  not 
be  allowed  to  reopen  the  subject  of  the 
testimonial  ;  and  Arthur  Angell,  in  whose 
breast  hope  was  once  more  a  sojourner,  had 
led  her  to  a  retired  walk,  and  was  reading  to 
her  a  set  of  verses,  called  "  Love's  Crime  "  ; 
and  Nellie  shook  her  head,  saying  that  there 
was  no  inducement  to  be  good  if  everyone 
conspired  to  pet  and  pamper  the  wicked. 

Philip  Hume  sat  alone  under  a  spreading 
tree,  looking  on,  and  talking  to  nobody.  The 
bustle  of  the  morning,  and  the  sumptuous  mid- 
day meal  worked  together  with  the  warm  after- 
noon air  and  the  distant  sounds  of  the  yeomanry 
band  to  make  him  a  little  drowsy,  and  he 
watched  the  people  walking  to  and  fro,  and 
heard  their  chatter  in  a  half-wakeful,  half- 
sleeping  state.  And,  strange  as  it  seems  in 
this  workaday,  skeptical  age,  he  fell  into  a 
sort  of  trance,  and  visions  of  what  should  be 
were  vouchsafed  to  him,  and  if  the  visions 
were  not  true,  at  least  they  had  a  look  of  truth. 
He  saw  a  man,  handsome  still,  for  all  that 
his  thick  hair  was  a  little  thinned  by  time  and 
his  waistcoat  was  broadening,  and  the  man 
read  in  a  mellow  voice  lines,  which  Philip  did 
not  hear  very  plainly,  about  the. greatness  of 


A  VISION.  247 

England,  the  glory  of  the  Throne,  and  the 
calmer  judgment  of  circling  years  tempering  the 
heat  of  youth.  Then  a  stately  dame  touched 
him  gently  on  the  shoulder,  saying  that  the 
verses  were  magnificent,  but  the  carriage 
waited  to  take  him  to  the  levie ;  and  he  rose 
to  go  with  a  smile,  not  seeming  to  notice  a  pale 
ghost,  that  clenched  impotent  shadowy  hands 
in  wrath  and  with  a  scowl  shrank  away.  Sud- 
denly, across  this  vision  came  the  form  of  Mrs. 
Hodge,  white-haired,  but  cheerful  and  buxom 
as  of  yore,  and  she  said:  "Well,  Hume,  she's 
made  Arthur  a  happy  man  at  last ;  "  and  the 
Mayor,  who  somehow  happened  to  be  there, 
wearing  on  his  breast  a  large  placard,  inscribed 
"Sir  James  Hedger,  Knight,"  added,  quite  in 
his  old  way :  "  We  were  all  wrong,  Mr.  Hume, 
sir,  except  you,  sir,  beggin'  your  pardon." 
Then  the  Squire's  voice  broke  in,  as  though  in 
the  course  of  an  argument,  and  declared  that  it 
was  nonsense  to  attribute  Dale's  change  of 
views  to  anything  except  growing  wisdom ; 
and  the  phantom  of  Colonel  Smith,  a  copy  of 
"  The  Clarion  "  in  his  hand,  answered  :  "  Bosh  !  " 
And  a  crowd  of  quite  indistinguishable,  well- 
dressed  shades  gathered  round  the  Colonel, 
and  Philip  heard  them  talking  about  the  inevita- 
ble gravitation  of  culture  and  intelligence.  But 
the  Colonel  still  answered  "  Bosh  ! "  and  Philip 
did  not  hear  the  end  of  the  matter,  nor  where 
the  truth  of  it  lay  ;  for  presently  all  the  forms 
passed  away,  and  he  saw  a  little  room,  a  little 
dingy  room,  and  a  gray-haired,  slouching  fellow 
in  an  old  coat,  smoking  an  old  pipe  and  scrib- 


248  A   CHANGE  OF  AIR. 

bliiig  on  foolscap,  scribbling  away  far  into  the 
night,  and  then  sitting  and  musing  for  a  soli- 
tary half  hour  in  front  of  his  dying  fire  before 
he  went  to  bed.  There  was  something  in  this 
figure  that  made  Philip  curious,  and  he  went 
nearer  and  looked.  Hush  !  It  was  himself, 
and 

He  awoke  with  a  start.  Dale  was  smiling 
down  on  him  with  his  old  friendly  smile,  and 
saying  to  Janet   Delane  : 

"  We  shall  never  let  this  old  chap  leave  us 
for  long,  shall  we,  Jan  }  " 


THE   END. 


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"A  charming  little  story ." —London  Atht' 
nteum.  _ 

"  Quaint  and  attractive  in  the  extreme.  — 
Philadelphia  Call. 

"  The  Woman  of  the  Saeter  is  weird  and 
strange,  and  told  with  much  art." — Outlook. 

"  An  exquisite  love  story  .    like  fine  gold 

in  its  value." — Chicago  Herald. 

"  One  of  the  sweetest,  saddest  stories  we  have 
ever  read." — Chicago  'Times. 

"  One  of  the  best  short  stories  that  has  ap- 
peared in  some  ume."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  A  delightful  story."— //art/ord  Past. 

"...  The  book  will  not  be  put  down  until 
all  are  r)nhhe<l."— Baltimore  American. 

HENRY  HOLT  &  CO., 

29  West   23d   Street,   New   York. 


42260 


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h. 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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